


Healing Old Wounds

by HannahRose063, yamirenamon



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake Marriage, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:05:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannahRose063/pseuds/HannahRose063, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamirenamon/pseuds/yamirenamon
Summary: An ongoing rp on Tumblr between a Trepan (mnemoiisms) and myself (resignedwarlord). This started as a symbol ask prompt for our muses to wake up married after a night of heavy drinking.---Megatron wakes up in Trepan's habsuite after attending a reception party with the Lost Light crew. The two quickly learn they are now legal conjunx enduras and must remain together till the divorce finalizes. But opinions of each other slowly change as they spend this unwilling time together.





	1. Realized Mistakes

Lip plates parting with a soft little inhale of a yawn and Trepan was slowly burrowing into the warmth of the blankets swaddling him and the warmth of the frame somewhat curled around him; it was almost sweet.

Faceplates burrowed into neck cables, an arm draped over his slender little frame, sheets tangled around them from someones nightly fussing of comfort, and nothing but the low hum of warbuild engines to grace the silence of the habsuite. One night frags never usually ended like this, granted most one night frags involved a frag but snuggled like this? Not complaining. Who’d he even come home with? He remembered mingling around with some frames at the after party of a wedding. A lot of harsh kissing. And then waking up all warm.

\---

Megatron slowly stirred from what little recharge he managed to get all night. His entire head ached, an expected side effect from the high grade he ingested at last night’s party. It was a pain he hadn’t felt in a long while. Now Megatron remembered why he stopped attending parties. He lifted one of his servos to massage his forehead. From that little movement Megatron was suddenly aware of the weight pressed against his frame. It wasn’t a heavy weight but it was obvious that someone or something was on top of him.

‘ _How much did I drink?’_

Megatron let out a soft groan and forced his optics open. The first thing that caught his attention was the room. He wasn’t in his own habsuite and that raised the first set of red flags in his groggy mind. But when he looked down his optics shot wide open. Snuggled against his neck was Trepan. His fuel tank churned in anxiety at the image of a mech he did not wish to even be in the same room with. Megatron carefully edged his arm away from Trepan. He only stopped himself when he wondered why he suddenly cared if he woke the other mech up. Without a second thought Megatron forcefully shoved Trepan off of himself and right over the edge of the recharge slab.

\---

The slow raise of an arm off his back had a low grunt from the slumbering surgeon, turning his helm away and burrowing in under the silver chin with a mumble of ‘Five more kliks’ before Megatron woke fully.

An undignified yelp at two servos under his frame throwing him forth and the surgeon was a tangle of limbs at his trajectory to the floor, a faint crash of plating following and a low groan of hangover muddled pain.

“Nhh! What the frag, Lobe?” He whined, pinching and rubbing his optics online and into focus up at the ceiling.

\---

‘ _Run! Run you idiot!’_ Megatron’s mind raced.

He should have ran out of the habsuite when Trepan hit the floor. But the new questions running through his processor kept him in the room. His memory of the previous night was foggy. And while it would be rational to blame the high grade he didn’t trust the mnemosurgeon. Megatron needed to know why he was in Trepan’s room and if they had done anything highly regrettable during the night. His interface panel didn’t feel different than usual, but he was not about to check right in front of Trepan. Megatron swung his legs over the recharge slab, blankets falling to the floor as he stood up. He walked cautiously over to Trepan and looked down at him.

“Not Lobe I’m afraid.”

\---

Slowly rolling from his back to his side and up to sit with a bleary blink around his berth room, back against the side of the berth to slowly reboot his systems for optimal performance when the sudden voice sent his energon lines cold.

Trepan could be as smug, intimidating, and fear inspiring as he liked around Megatron. But when the rug of surprise was pulled out from under his pedes and Megatron was HERE, in his HABSUITE, in his BERTHROOM, now his bolt hole KNOWN had him crab shuffling backwards at the sudden loom to get room to pull his pedes under him to stand, backing up with his right servo triple click'ing into a saw and held abreast him warily. Surgeon with a saw vs ex-Gladiator bare servo’d. Odds were not in his favour.

“… Come anywhere near me and I will rearrange your internal components to look like a design project of Wheeljack’s and donate your helm to a thirsty family in Africa for a bucket.”

\---

Megatron watched in silence as Trepan quickly backed away and onto his feet. He wasn’t surprised by the reaction. He was still Megatron after all and his past spoke to mechs far louder than his current self. When Trepan’s servo transformed into a saw he tried to remain outwardly unmoved as possible. That surgical tool didn’t bother him too much, it was those needles that he didn’t want to see.

“My insides are already a mess without your help,” Megatron stated flatly.

If Trepan lunged at him or if Megatron dodged in the right way he could take Trepan’s arm off the same way he took Whirl’s during his early days on the _Lost Light_.

“I just want to know what happened last night and why I am in your room. I’m assuming this is your room.”

\---

Backed up and trying to keep some maneuver room behind him away from furniture and corners and he was regarding Megatron with a wary glare, posture braced ready to strike or retreat as he watched the silver intruder regard him in the same way. Hard to think someone so small could make Megatron the Gladiator, Leader of the Decepticon’s, look so ruffled. But then again, that ruffled mech had done a spot on job of nearly offlining him with some lovely side effects.

“Indeed it's my room. I went out for a nice night on the town to drink with Chromedome to catch up and help me sleep as I have a three day weekend. Enjoyed a multitude of colours and flavours to find some new favourites instead of plain old high grade, quantity does not help quality. I remember someone screaming about a wedding, I think I snuck in to the lobby because suddenly there was fancy food and people mingling and so many people talking about how great the wedding reception was. And then I woke up here so someone must have taken me home, probably Chromedome. Why YOU are here is … ” he trailed off, optics dimming to draw up his HUD into his central field of vision.

“…. You should probably look at your inbox” he said, still reading the big system update titled ‘Change of Marital Status’.

\---

Megatron impatiently listened to Trepan’s rambling story about his upcoming weekend. Unimportant details in his opinion that he really didn’t care to know about. The wedding though, that sounded familiar. It was a big enough mistake to allow himself to be persuaded to go out drinking. Rodimus and Whirl insisted that he needed to loosen up for once in his life. So by the time word had gotten around that a bigger party was happening at a wedding reception Megatron had only half a sober processor left. All he could really remember was Whirl’s frustration over missing an opportunity to really crash a wedding. The rest of the night was drowned out in high grade. If Trepan showed up at the same reception it explained how Megatron possibly ended up in his berthroom. Trepan’s story suddenly came to a pause for a moment when something caught his attention.

“My inbox?”

Megatron hadn’t noticed the small ping that rang softly in his audials till now. He kept a cautious look in Trepan’s direction just in case this was a decoy to lower his defense. The notice that came up made his spark race.

‘ _Change of Marital status?! This has to be an error!’_

Megatron skimmed over the drawn out details till he found the important part.

‘ _Conjunx endura to Trepan.’_

The date and time was marked late last night. Megatron closed the notification and let out a frustrated groan. His headache just got worse.

“Please tell me you didn’t get the same update as I did….”

\---

Surely not. Surely this was some horrible, horrible joke from High Brow or Chromedome or even Lymph for something he’d done or said at work. Surely … Surely he couldn’t be Conjunx to Megatron of all people! A failed patient! An ex-gladiator! A warlord! And … And a Decepticon!! I mean, sure, this might get him some marital immunity off the DJD’s List?

“Sadly” he said, saw click'ing back into a servo and straightening warily, inching around the perimeter of the room so he had more space and rooms behind him he could use as a bolt hole if Megatron went for a more Decepticon Divorce.

“So…”

\---

This was perfect, just perfect. Trepan disengaged his saw and it brought Megatron a small amount of relief.

‘ _How did I let this happen… I should have never let Rodimus and Whirl drag me to that bar.’_

Suddenly a delayed realization dawned on him.

“Trepan, you… I thought I killed you when I found out that Overlord had taken you,” Megatron said.

That was years ago when the war was still going on. He had caught on that Overlord kidnapped Trepan to learn the mnemosurgery trade. Maybe he was dreaming after all. Megatron took two steps closer towards Trepan.

\---

Trepan may have disengaged his saw back to a servo but the moment those words left his lips with that stride closer and both sets of needles were out with a little two-step hop backwards to drop into a combat stance and his plating was raised as high as it could to cool components and sucking in air through his vents for a fight. He was hoping that topic hadn’t come to mind.

“Lets just say ‘You Missed’” he said sharply, readying himself for fight or flight, flitting optics to the door calculating options.

“So, back the frag up or I will finish what I started on Messatine.”

\---

Megatron stopped in his steps abruptly when those terrifying needles sprang from Trepan’s fingers. He immediately backed up and hit the back of his legs against the berth. Megatron grabbed the edges with his servos to stop himself from falling backwards. A part of him wished that he still had his fusion canon.

‘ _No, you swore off violence. That applies to Trepan as well.’_

“Look I’m not here to finish that job. It doesn’t exactly make my new image look good,” Megatron said, jabbing his own digit at the Autobot insignia on his chest.

“I just want to leave now so I can find the nearest court to undo this…union.”

\---

“I don’t care if you went Autobot! I don’t even care if you went neutral! You shot me!” Trepan bellowed, vox surprisingly loud for such a tiny frame as he advanced on the berth-backed mech, needles still clawed like an angry tri-colour raptor and for someone so little he was quiet a scary fellow.

“You shot me at point blank range, without even the decency to let me turn away or make one fragging phone call to my Endura!” The little mech raged, anger overriding fear as the angry exvents were fogging the silver chassis at their closeness. “Your shot melted my plating and inner components into the spark chamber that is keeping me online!”

\---

Megatron couldn’t move as Trepan approached him. He was trapped between a berth behind him and the paralyzing phobia of the needles that came closer with each second. Trepan screeched his anger towards Megatron. Another harsh reminder that no matter what he did to try to amend his past he couldn’t ever make it right. He couldn’t go back and undo the damage he did. Megatron stood on the tips of his peds now as a last resort to be as far away from Trepan’s needles as possible. His optics widened when he heard the word ‘endura’. Trepan’s endura couldn’t be around anymore. The marital status change wouldn’t have gone through if he was already with another mech.

“Look, I’m sorry I shot you. Your presence under Overlord was a threat to my own safety. My intent to kill you was only half-personal.”

\---

“Only HALF PERSONAL!?” Trepan roared, backing Megatron up till he was wobbling with how far on the tips of his pedes he was standing with nothing but the berth at the back of his leg plating.

Poor choice of words.

“I was ordered to operate! I was doing my job, Megatron! I didn’t sit brooding in my office at a photo like ‘Yes, what a perfect helm’. I was paid to do my job because you went outside your ramification of occupation!” He seethed, servo snapping out to slash across the red faction insignia in a shower of sparks to carve four great furrows across its face with curls of steel and pain left hanging as the mech whirled to the door of his berthroom and stormed into the main part of the habsuite, venting and pacing to cool his systems before he committed an even bigger reason for Prowl not to leave him alone.

\---

Bad move! Bad move! Trepan became even more infuriated by Megatron’s impromptu apology. He almost felt his spark stop when Trepan lashed his needles out at his chest. The scratches stung a little as they left a shallow mark in his plating. After Trepan left him alone Megatron stared at the door, his vents still working overtime. After his vents settled down a bit he cautiously walked into the room Trepan ran off into. The last thing he needed was the mnemosurgeon attacking him again.

“I’m just….going to leave now. Where’s the front door?”

A small part of him wanted to say more but he didn’t think now was the best time.

\---

A sharp hiss of vents was his answer, back to him and just a needle pointing at the door of the habsuite.

It was quite a clear warning, considering the needles were in play, of get out now so at least Megatron was wise to leave before Trepan really got angry.

For now? Give him a day to calm down and maybe next time his beloved knocked on the door he’d be met with a glare and a choice of a cold greeting.  
  
\---  
  
When Megatron walked out of Trepan’s door he left with no intention of ever returning. So when he returned back at Trepan’s doorstep two days later he hesitated at first. Megatron spent a few moments staring at the door. He tried to think of any other options that might have slipped his mind.

“Please don’t bring out the needles,” Megatron mumbled.

He rang the buzzer and nervously waited.

\---

“… What do you want?” Trepan sighed, leaning in the partially open doorframe glaring at the mech with one servo of needles on display to show he was not fooling around when it came to having Megatron at this proximity.

\---

Megatron visibly shuddered when Trepan opened the door.

“I just came to talk to you about the divorce,” he said, holding out a datapad.

It contained all of the lengthy documents just to start the process.

“I can’t file this all by myself. I tried to persuade Optimus into finding a loophole in the system to fix this immediately. Instead he had the nerve to tell me of the benefits we could have if we stayed married.”

\---

“Oh, I don’t know” he said, taking the datapad to peruse at his leisure against the door, reading the fine print end and his mind already working out loop holes and what section of fine print rendered other sections null and void.

“If you suffered an accident by default all your belongings and chattels relist in my designation” comes the flat little comment. It was a joke, but his sense of humour was a tad … warped.

\---

Watching Trepan read through the datapad Megatron shifted his weight on his peds. He couldn’t tell if his ‘husband’ was plotting something nasty. After the argument Trepan made the other morning he wouldn’t doubt it. He wouldn’t even need to be hired to do the job this time around.

“The divorce will take weeks to finalize. And that’s just the time frame if we cooperate together.”

Megatron stopped for a moment and looked over Trepan.

“You do have a nice apartment though. Can’t get one in my name. Not with my criminal record,” he smiled.

\---

“Good, enjoy it while you can because if you return the favour by offlining ME you lose it because it’s actually …was actually Lobe’s. The deeds of utility bills are in my name, but he is the owner even if he’s not here” He said, scrolling through the datapad a little more before nodding.

“Okay. Well, Thanks for the datapad, Megatron. You must have busy ex-con duties so I won’t keep you. Have a lovely day” he smiled, stepping back to let the door hiss shut between them.

If Megatron stopped it with a servo, he’d find a digit jabbed with a needle. If he put his pede in the door track to stop it, Trepan would need a rapid plan B.

\---

Megatron took Trepan’s offer to enjoy the apartment literally. He couldn’t go back to the _Lost Light_ that was stationed in Iacon. The entire crew caught the news quickly about his marriage. Footage of the vow exchange that he didn’t even remember played in Swerve’s bar the next night. Between Trepan and a ship full of relentless teases Megatron would rather be around the mnemosurgeon for once.

“Actually,” Megatron said, quickly putting his ped into the door’s path, “I think I will enjoy your apartment for a while. It’s got a nice view.”

\---

Skittering back from the door with the datapd raised slightly like a shield at the sudden pede preventing the door closing and he was warily eying up the mech in the doorway, plating ruffled and antenna slick back to his plating.

“H-how about you actually don’t and you go and do some wifey warlord things that don’t involve you being inside the one last place of solace and safety I have in this fragged up place, hm?”

\---

“Well I would love to do those things but my ship is full of morons laughing at my misfortune. I need a break from them before I break my promise to never use violence ever again,” Megatron said.

He gently nudged his shoulder into the door in an attempt to open it. He stopped when he heard his personal communicator ring in his audials.

“Hold on, it’s Optimus. Maybe he’s found a way to speed this up. Yes?” Megatron said, pressing his palm against the side of his head.

He was silent for a few seconds as he listened to Optimus on the other side.

“I appreciate the offer but I highly doubt either of us are interested in actually going on a honeymoon,” he sighed.

He fell silent again for a while. Suddenly a look of absolute horror crossed the former warlord’s face. His optics widened and he gripped at the door with his free hand.

“What do you mean you let the _Lost Light_ leave without me?!” Megatron roared, “Optimus! No! Do not……he hung up on me.”

He let out a frustrated groan and looked at Trepan.

“Wifey warlord things have been postponed.”

\---

“There is a word for those morons, Megatron. It is called karma” He smiled up at the warlord smugly, using his saw to jab at the nudging shoulder like a prod to coax Megatron out of attempted breaking and entering of his property and found his saving grace at Optimus calling forth.

Little boxer like jabs of the rounded blade at plating seams and overlaps trying to pester Megatron out of his doorway warily not wanting to waste popping needles at a camera angle he couldn’t record the face from before he was darting back at the sudden roar.

Don’t get him wrong, Megatron was a rather nightmarish mech responsible for many a glitch with Trepan and while the roar was not directed at his pestering it was something you backed the frag up from.

“…. Well don’t look at me. Go steal a ship and return to your morons” he said, remaining where he’d bolted to and slowly raising a servo towards the side of his own helm for security since Megatron was not one for violence anymore.

\---

Megatron buried his face in his hand for a long moment. What was he going to do now?

“Yes, because I want to be arrested while on probation.”

Megatron moved his shoulder a bit more. The saw that Trepan had been poking him with earlier proved to be nothing more than a mild annoyance. The door was not giving way and Megatron didn’t want to break it. He had no money under his name as of now.

“Look, I just need a place to stay till I figure something out.”

\---

“What do you mean you need a place to stay? You are Megatron. You have hundreds of little out posts and bolt holes or hotels you could hide out at to escape your morons, let alone have anyone in the berth if the rumour mill is honest for once” he said, watching the grey mech intently, looking for a trap or hostility.

This ‘sworn off violence’ thing was a ruse, right? Surely someone like Megatron could never TRULY be peaceful and without what made him a gladiator.

“Fine. If you step pede on this side of the door you will follow a strict set of rules;  
You will not damage anything within this habsuite.  
You will not come near me without my express permission.  
You will recharge on the couch.  
And if you make a mess, you are liable to clean it.  
Break any of those rules and I will ensure you are arrested on your probation, or wind up at _The Institute_ , depending on my mood.”

\---

“Autobot,” Megatron jabbed at his chest again.

“I don’t have any hiding places anymore. Both Decepticons and Autobots don’t want me around. And had I known the _Lost Light_ was going to leave the planet without me I wouldn’t have wasted my time personally handing you that divorce form.”

Megatron felt a slight wave of relief when Trepan began listing off his habsuite rules. But the mention of _The Institute_ made his fuel tank flop over. This was going to be a restless night.

“I understand and agree to these terms,” he said reluctantly.

“I would like to get out of your doorway now if you don’t mind.”

\---

“Well, then you should have thought about that before you became a turncoat. I at least went neutral for ease of access” he said stepping to the side to let Megatron in and calling off security as he returned to inside of the habsuite giving a brief tour but offhandedly pointing as he walked for his office.

“Dining lounge and adjoining kitchenette. My office. Berthroom which you are acquainted with. And the spare room now study.” He said, “Nanomesh is in the trunk used for a coffee table. Make the sofa to your liking” and don’t mind him popping into his office and the space of the door taking on a blue shimmer.

Seems Trepan’s bolt hole habsuite had the same kind of technology like stasis cuffs and containment cells that kept people in place. Best to tread carefully. Of this was where Trepan felt most at home, there would be plenty a reason regarding security and protection.

\---

Megatron followed Trepan in silence as the mnemosurgeon gave a quick tour of his habsuit. He kept a moderate distance following the other mech. The apartment was nice, nothing too lavish but very clean. Megatron stared at the direction of the berthroom the longest. It still baffled him how the two of them managed to land themselves in this mess. Trepan then disappeared into his office. Megatron didn’t dare step into the room. From the glance he got outside the door the office reminded Megatron of a small medical lab. A place appropriate for Trepan’s work no doubt but the sight made him uneasy.

“I’m going to return back to the sofa to read over my copy of the divorce form,” he said.

Megatron didn’t want to ‘unexpectedly’ run off and alarm Trepan even more than he already had.

\----

It took a few hours, possibly five, before Trepan left the safety of his office and out into the main part of the house, flicking a glance to the looming shoulders of the warlord on his couch and Trepan’s mind was running through scenarios.

If Megatron was to remain here for a while, at least until the divorce forms went through, it was best to make it as bearable for them both in the mean time. Hesitantly stepping into Megatron’s line of sight, two cubes in servo, and he was hesitantly offering out one but keeping his distance regardless.

“I …am aware I have not been much of a host in these few cycles, all things considered, but without the _Lost Light_ I haven’t really taken you into consideration. Would you like some fuel?” he hedged, cube held by the tips of his digits underneath because last thing he wanted was to give Megatron a handhold.

\---

Megatron looked up from the datapad he had been meticulously combing through for the past few hours. His neck started to feel stiff between the long reading and the unnerving stress of the habsuite he was in.

“I did not expect you to be a host to me in all honesty. I will try to contact Optimus tomorrow to give you back your space. Right now he is ignoring all of my calls.”

Megatron had to lean forward slightly in order to reach the cube in Trepan’s grasp. He made sure to move carefully and to avoid any unnecessary contact with the other mech.

“Thanks,” Megatron said when he took the cube.

He was about to take a sip when the notice of an incoming call flashed in the corner of his visor. For a moment he hoped it was Optimus but his expectation was quickly shot down when he saw the name of the caller.

“I should have changed my number when I joined the _Lost Light_ ,” he grumbled as he pressed two fingers against his audials.

“What do you want, Starscream?”

Megatron’s frown grew when he heard a long string of laughter coming in from the call.

“Goodbye, Starscream,” Megatron disconnected the call before allowing the leader of Cybertron to get a real word in.

“Still a pain in my aft,” Megatron commented and took a sip of the energon.

\---

The lean forward had Trepan leaning backwards in reflex, cube still extended till Megatron had it in his servo and promptly skittering over to another chair to perch on the arm rest warily, more a lean than an actual seat to sip his own cube throughout the call that seemed to come through, laughter included.

While he had had no phone calls come through he didn’t have many friends to do so, quite a lonely life full of dead memories and passings, he was glad for the solace. Sure, someone at work might eventually find out but he doubted it.

Still, he would sit quietly all ajitter and sip, sip, sip his cube watching Megatron do the same awkwardly till both cubes were empty. It was then he spoke. Now or never, and how do you ensure someone doesn’t kill you? You make him think they’ve already lost the fight.

“… I laced your cube.”

\---

‘ _Laced’._

That was a word Megatron didn’t expect to hear. He stared at the now empty energon cube in his hand, rotation it around slowly. The energon didn’t taste unusual to him. But then again Trepan was a surgeon and he could have easily disguised the taste of any poison. His mind raced between fear and sudden terror but he kept his demeanor as calm as possible.

“You must not do this very often,” he said as he gently set the cube on the coffee table and looked up at Trepan.

“Because you don’t tell someone that you’ve just poisoned them before the ill effects start to set in,” he slowly stood up to his maximum height.

\---

The moment Megatron had the cube placed Trepan was on his feet, this own cube slipping from his servos to bounce once, twice, thrice as Megatron stood to meet him and he was taking a little two-step backwards.

“Because I did not poison you,” he said, “I have performed the same fail safe we do for all our patients at the Relinquishment clinic to stop them from taking a frame and never returning it again. Inside your drink was a quantity of nanites from my office. They will ‘require’ a code each day for deactivation sequence or they will unleash a strand of evolving Red Rust that while it wont kill you swiftly, it will work just fast enough to prevent a cure being administered. I have nothing to ensure you won’t kill me while you are here, at least this way I know if I die I am taking you down with me. Think of it as … Fool’s Energon 2.0.″

\---

Megatron hated himself for thinking this was a good idea. Nanites, in his system! The rage Megatron felt towards his unwilling spouse made him want to lash out. He had to combat the urge to break his vow of revoking violence by telling himself repeatedly that he would be dead if he took any sort of action - either from Trepan’s nanites or from the Cybertronian judicial system for having commit murder. He remained standing right next to the coffee table, his entire frame shaking from pent-up fury.

“I willingly consented to taking the fools energon on my ship! I would have rather you called the police on me for being on your property than for you to do this!”

\---

Then you should not have com back to my habsuite when you went to Optimus!” Trepan said, daring to raise his vox just a little so he would be heard over the fury pouring from Megatron’s.

“In case you forgot, you tried to offline me. You pointed your cannon at my chassis and fired with the intent of murder. You _shot_ me. I am taking the precautions that allow me to _prevent_ that from happening, and for other people I care about. If I offline, I won’t have to worry about their safety. This way I get to also ensure that you do not damage my home” He said, the lie sliding off his silver tongue like silk. So I am sorry I didn’t _ask_ you for your imput on what makes _me_ feel safe in my own home. The police never do _slag!”_

\---

“No, I didn’t forget but thank you for reminding me yet again!” Megatron quickly shot back.

Oh how he hated being reminded of his past. Even if Megatron wasn’t afraid of needles and asked to erase it all it wouldn’t change anything. Everyone else still remembered. Megatron made a mental note to himself to write to Brainstorm when he had the time. If that scientist ever got around to making another time machine he should just offline Megatron before his activation day. Sitting back down on the sofa Megatron picked up his datapad. He elected to remain silent least something escaped his mouth that would infuriate Trepan even more.

\---

Jittering near his chair and he was very hesitantly lowering himself to reach for his dropped cube and carefully backing into the kitchen to wash and put it away while Megatron read the divorce papers for the hundredth time now doubt.

Another hour of cooling down time between them, and a comfort offering in a pillow from his room placed at the other end of the couch, and Trepan was pausing in the doorway. He was locking his room tonight.

“I … Just a warning I do work in the morning so I might be gone for a few days till my workload is done and order is recreated. So… Make your, _uh_ , self at home?” he said, not quite sure how to host a house to a mass murdering, galaxy conquering, cult creating, and widow-making mass of a mech he’d been married to.

In all honesty? This whole thing was awkward.

 


	2. Nightmares

Scrolling through the datapad the words ran together almost meaningless now. The divorce forms were mostly legal jargon. But Megatron kept his optics on the datapad in his hands. When Trepan came back into the room he didn’t acknowledge the other mech’s presence. Megatron saw the pillow come into the corner of his vision at the other end of the sofa but continued to keep his gaze forward. Trepan informed him that he would leave for work and be gone for a few days. Megatron let out a small grunt in response to let him know that he heard what Trepan said. It wasn’t until he heard the small click of a door lock that he finally tossed the datapad onto the coffee table. Megatron stretched his arms and rolled his neck. He was sore from the stress and staring at a datapad all day. He then stood up to stretch his spinal struts. Megatron turned to look at the sofa for a moment. It was a decent size furniture, for a mech like Trepan. But even if the sofa was larger he doubted that he was going to recharge much tonight.

He finally fell into a recharge for a few short hours early in the morning before sunrise. But when he heard Trepan move around the apartment his optics onlined instantly and remained lounged on the sofa. He wouldn’t bother to fuel up till the mnemosurgeon left.

\---

Alarm chiming to draw him from recharge, and it was a quick scrub in the washracks and a rub down of polish once dry and he was trotting into the main room, guest forgotten in the midst of his routine.

Energon heated before being poured into a thermos shaped container that was more movement and travel friendly than a cube, two scoops of magnesium to shake the absolute slag out of to mix it and he was looking around him with a hum as he back peddled to the door and it was clicking shut behind him with silence in his wake.

Well, fact number one about Trepan; He was an insanely early bird. It was barely the fourth hour of the cycle and he was gone.  
Second fact; he had a sweet tooth that was a serious understatement

\---

Megatron offlined his optics for the short moment Trepan was in the living room. When he heard the front door lock he quickly sat up on the sofa. His processors demanded a longer recharge but Megatron ignored it for now. If Trepan had laced his energon with deadly nanites then there had to be a way to permanently disable them. Even if he couldn’t do so right away he needed as much info as he could gather. Trepan said that he’d be gone for work for a few days. And while Megatron wasn’t sure exactly how long that would be he wasn’t going to waste any time. The first place he looked through was the kitchen. He contemplated the risk of fueling up. What if Trepan had laced his energon supply. Megatron left the fuel alone for the moment and made his way to the study. He stopped in the doorway and stared at the room for a long moment. The sight of the medical berth brought back some unpleasant memories that the two shared many million years ago.

“Ugh, mnemosurgeons,” he muttered to himself.

Once Megatron got past the unsettling sight he began picking through the contents of the desk. He made sure to leave every item as close to its original location as possible. Nothing seemed to be important. He looked at the datapad shelf and made a mental note to look through those later. His next destination was the berthroom. A room he was unfortunately familiar with. Megatron was surprised that the nightstand drawers weren’t locked. Again he found nothing of importance, except for a few small USB sticks. If he could get into the computer in the study perhaps he could take a look at their contents.

 **Day 2:** Megatron regretted sleeping on the sofa again. He hadn’t thought that Trepan would be gone for an entire day. If he didn’t return the following night he was sleeping in the berth. Optimus was still ignoring his calls. That wouldn’t have been such an issue if he had the passcode to Trepan’s apartment. If he dared to venture out he had no way of getting back in. And he didn’t trust his luck that Trepan would let him back in when he did return. He spent most of the day trying to guess Trepan’s password to his office computer. Nothing worked and he left it alone. The USB sticks from the berthroom didn’t seem to fit into any of the access ports anyways.

 **Day 3:** Whatever Trepan was using as a cleaning detergent smelled amazing. Megatron managed to calm his initial nerves without his husband’s presence. He woke up from a fully rested recharge in the berthroom and almost didn’t want to leave from its inviting comfort. Compared to the sofa the berth was a bitter size for his large frame and adorned with plush pillows and blankets. He laid in the berth for a while longer, mindful to not fall back asleep. It was only when his fuel tank demanded energon that he got up. Megatron was careful to make the berth just in case Trepan returned unannounced. His main objective of the day was to look through the personal library in the study.

 **Day 4** : Boredom was starting to set in. Megatron found nothing of use in the entire apartment. But he remained alive, his body feeling no different than ever. Trepan could have remotely killed him while away for so long but he hadn’t. And Megatron wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. The day was spent mostly tidying up the apartment. He tried to entertain himself with some movies but quickly became antsy from the lack of productivity he experienced over the past few days. Trepan seemed to like his living space as clean and organized as possible. The apartment had very little furniture and everything seemed to have its designated place. When he was done making sure everything was back where he remembered, or as close to it, he settled in the large bath for a long soak.

\---

Door sliding open on the fourth day with a mental ping from the mnemosurgeon and he was stumbling into his habsuite with a great yawn to flood his processor with cool air from his systems to wake himself up a little longer for what he needed to do. In all honesty, between the work he had performed and how clean the habsuite was he had actually forgotten about the inconvenience of his new marriage status.

And with Megatron out of sight in a bathing pit to leave his apartment in its perfect state of organization it did not so much as click he was no longer alone.

A cube warmed up and nursed, and Trepan was blearily toddling from the kitchen to his berth to slowly sink into the cushioning mesh underlay with his prize before pausing.

 _'No, Trepan,'_ he thought, ' _If you lay down now you won’t get up for a quick wipe down. Wash up, then you can recharge.'_

Cube in hand, more awake albeit barely, and he was wandering into the washracks to run his servos under the sink to splash and rub clean his face plates for berth, straightening for the hand towel when red optics on grey in the mirror’s corner had him half scrambling up onto the sink with a screech.

“Fucking Primus!”

_**WELL, HE WAS AWAKE NOW!** _

\---

A warm soak was just what Megatron needed. Between that and the comfort of the berth he was going to recharge well tonight. Megatron sank into the bath, his knees, shoulders, and the upper part of his face were the only parts above the cleaning solvent. But his relaxing quiet time was interrupted by the sound of light footsteps approaching his direction. Optics widened and his spark quickened when he realized Trepan had returned. He didn’t move when Trepan walked into the washroom and turned on the sink. He hadn’t noticed Megatron in the room. How had he not known he was there? Megatron wanted to say something but he couldn’t think of what or how without startling the other mech. Just when Trepan had finished washing his face a loud screech filled the room. Now he saw him.

“It didn’t seem strange to you that the lights were already on?” Megatron said after lifting his mouth out of the water, suds sticking to his face.

\---

“No!” He barked as he slowly got both pedes under him upon sliding off the bathroom counter, still pressed against his spinal struts wide eyed and watching the bubble clad warlord in his tyrannous pool of evil.

“It is not uncommon for me to leave a light or appliance on when I leave for work” he said, thinking back to how or why he hadn’t noticed Megatron’s presence. No smell. No mess. Neatness.

“… Did you clean my apartment?”

\---

“Yes, you’re welcome,” Megatron said flatly.

He then leaned forward to disengage the bath pit’s stopper. Megatron remained sitting in the bath while it slowly drained empty. Some of the suds still stuck to his armor.

“I don’t have the passcode to your apartment and Optimus is _still_ ignoring my calls. I didn’t want to risk being locked out so I stayed here.”

Megatron reached for the towel that he placed near the bath and stood up, leftover water and solvent dripping off of his frame.

“I’ll be out of your way once I’ve dried.”

\---

Inching along the counter in retreat at the slow gurgle of the drain as Megatron stood, and in any other circumstance he would be admired all that bath glistening plating or rivlets of solvent coursing off the frame, but this _was_ the mech who had attempted to kill him many an eon ago so it slipped his mind at the time.

Well, at lease he knew how to keep Megatron confined to one place; no access codes.

“… Define _out of your way”_ He said slowly, _aaaall_ the way now where the counter ended and refused to move from the end of his re treatable surface.

\---

Megatron watched Trepan shift along the counter and reaching the far end of the room. A part of him wanted to remind Trepan that he had no interest in harming the mech. He had cooled down enough over the idea of having nanites snuck into his system. But he highly doubted that Trepan would take his word.

“I mean out of your washracks. I’ll return to the sofa to let you have your personal space back for the night.”

Megatron toweled off as quickly as he could. It was a little unnerving having Trepan stare at him while he stretched and reached around his own frame. When he was satisfied enough to let the rest of his armor air dry he hung the towel on the drying rack and quickly left for the sofa. Back to the uncomfortable recharge.

\---

“I … Thank you” Watching Megatron dry off, optics on him at all time ready to move if he so much as looked like he was thinking of coming this way and Trepan was remaining where he was for a firm count of one hundred when he was given the room to himself before stepping into the washers himself to clean up after his time at work.

With his frame clean, it was inching into the kitchen for one more cube of fuel to drink warily causing him to look like a circuit rabbit with those wide optics and flicking antenna, before he was heading to berth for his usual routine of recharge. Eighteen solid hours of plugged into the berth and it was probably the only time that Trepan looked peaceful.

\---

Trepan tried to sneak into the kitchen and back, his biolights giving away his position. Megatron gave away no sign that he saw the smaller mech in the dark. He offlined his optics in the hopes that Trepan would simply return to the berthroom as quickly as possible. When Megatron was finally alone he tossed and turned on the sofa, his only comfort being the single pillow. Spoiling himself with the space and comfort of the berth was now a mistake. The growing ache in his spinal struts and neck kept waking him up and he had to move again on the small furniture.

Surprisingly he woke up the next morning without hearing Trepan leave for work. Or so Megatron assumed he was at the Institute. The sun was already up in the mid-morning. Making his way to the kitchen Megatron was quiet just in case Trepan was still asleep. He sat at the dinning island with a warm cube of energon and the divorce form in hand. He and Trepan still needed to sign the form, send it in, and wait for the next set of forms to be sent to them. Why filing for a divorce was a lot more work than getting married was just backwards in Megatron’s mind.

Once the time struck noon Megatron left the kitchen, the single cube in the sink to be washed later. Given how quiet the day had been at this hour he assumed that Trepan had gone back to work. His assumption was a terrible mistake when he opened the berthroom door.

\---

Noon and the clock chiming, perhaps, but that did not mean the mentally and physically exhausted surgeon was waking up any time soon. No, even with the blinds open to throw shafts of light over the berth and Trepan was dead to the world.

Blankets tangled at his hips to keep the perfect temperature, and somewhat wedged between a trio of pillows and the surgeon was snoring away. Well, it wasn't really a _snore._ More a tiny little grunt on every exvent and sprawled smack bang in the center of this berth that could have catered to them both with plenty of room.

That Senator establishment bonus = luxury even with how much of a minimalist Trepan was.

\---

The sight of a sleeping Trepan stopped Megatron instantly. His vents hitched and he remained perfectly still, staring at the recharging mech to be sure he didn’t just wake him. But Trepan remained asleep. Megatron kept his optics on Trepan as he slowly backed out of the room. The mech looked peaceful, a lot less terrifying in the sheets. His body lazily drowned in the blankets and pillows. Megatron carefully closed the berthroom door and mentally cursed his luck. He would have to remain quiet until Trepan woke up. He was starting to wish that he could leave the apartment at least for a few hours. Megatron returned to the kitchen for more fuel. The warm energon was nice. Trepan had a taste for better quality, that Megatron will admit. As he waited for his cube to warm he peeked through all of the cabinets, the containers of powdered metals catching his interest.

\---

Noon turned to night, and still not once had the mech stirred aside to roll back over to face the window as the sun had passed enough to allow the room to be filled with darkness again and still the surgeon slumbered in his ridiculous sized berth without a care in the world.

He did seem so much more innocent and smaller when curled up in berth. If Megatron had acted earlier, he could have napped on the berth too and Trepan would be none the wiser when he woke.

You probably won’t see Trepan out of berth till just after dawn.

\---

Evening came and Trepan still hadn’t emerged from the berthroom. Megatron had done some light house cleaning as quietly as possible. Though a part of him wished that it would wake the sleeping mech. Trepan even slept through the postal deliverer knocking at the door. A package addressed to Trepan from Starscream. Megatron wondered what the leader of Cybertron had to give, but he left the package unopened on the coffee table.

Megatron was growing impatient with Trepan at this point and then a sudden thought crossed his mind. Maybe his spark just gave out during the recharge. It was a rare way to go but it wasn’t unheard of. That would be his luck - widowed after the first week. That would speed up his execution no matter what the evidence proved.

And then there were those nanites. Megatron began to panic a little at that thought. He couldn’t let Trepan sleep or die without deactivating them. Rushing to the berthroom Megatron quickly opened the door.

“Trepan!”

\---

The first yell of his designation did not wake him, but the other one and no doubt being shaken as well roused him from his sleep with a bleary flicker of optics onlining, twisting to see who was treating him this way before screeching once again and throwing himself out of berth, scrambling backwards regardless of the blankets hampering his efforts with how tangled they were around his legs. “Oh Primus, what do you want?!”

Why was Megatron looking so panicked? Was something on fire? Was something broken? Was someone _here_? Oh, no, what had happened.

“I need to get you a fragging bell collar” He seethed, kicking off the blankets to push himself to his pedes and remaining nice and snug against the wall, assured by the pressure of stability at his spinal struts. And then his chronometer caught up. Ah.

“… How long was I out?”

\---

Megatron flinched and backed up a little when Trepan fell out of the berth screaming. Well, at least he was still alive. He let out a relieved vent and made no comment over Trepan’s suggestion for a bell collar.

“You have been recharging all day. Literally. It’s evening. I thought you had died.”

That made it sound like he cared too much over Trepan’s well-being. But he didn’t care too much right now. He just wanted to be sure that his own health was not going to be destroyed by tiny parasites.

\---

Grunting and rubbing his optics with a look out the window and he was inching back to the berth.

“Yes, I am not surprised I have recharged all day, I haven’t slept since before I _left_ for work. I work four, sometimes five days in a row, come home and recharge for as long as it takes my systems to wake me up from.” he said, easing himself onto the head of the berth and watching Megatron.

“… You look dreadful. Do you want some sleepgrease?”

\---

Megatron stared at Trepan in shock, his mouth hanging slightly open. Nearly a week of work without recharging? In the medical field?! That couldn’t be healthy or safe for anyone. Especially if Trepan was still prodding other mechs’ brain modules.

“I…..do you always do this?”

He felt slightly envious that Trepan was crawling back into the berth. Looks like it was going to be another night on the sofa.

“No. I want you to stop these nanites from killing me. You said they need to be disengaged daily.”

\---

“Yes. Stops the nightmares and panic attacks. I work, work, work till my processor and frame are at their limit and then I simply fuel up and crash for around a day” He said, bundled up in his blankets like a little monk where he sat.

“Nanites? Oh, I disengaged them while I was drinking the cubes… This morning? Yesterday? I don’t remember when, it was late, but I took them down for 48 hours while I recharged. May I go back to berth now?”

\---

“Yeah….go back to recharging,” Megatron turned to leave the berthroom.

“If you take off again in the morning there’s a package that arrived for you today. I’ll leave it on the kitchen island so you can open it. Also I’ll leave the divorce form next to it. You just need to sign your half and drop it off at the court office so they can start processing it.”

Megatron closed the door and made his way back to the living room. He arranged the unopened package and datapad on the island and returned to the sofa. It was still early in the evening. But he was bored enough from the day. And if he started now he might get a full recharge by the time Trepan took off again before sunrise.

\---

A digit held up and intake opening to offer a suggestion and Megatron was closing the door on him and Trepan was shutting his mouth. Well then.

So he had a package which he didn’t remember ordering, probably fools energon from Optimus, and papers to sign. He’d get to those later, but for now, it was curling back up into his berth like a happy little burrito and slumping right back into recharge.

The only downside to the method of Trepan’s madness was that for this routine to work it worked on his mind and body being so exhausted they shut down. Having recharged? Rendered all that null and void. Trepan might fall asleep easy, but he would not wake up in the same way.

\---

The first hour of the night Megatron spent rolling around the sofa trying to get comfortable. Deciding to ditch the small furniture Megatron tossed the one pillow he had and settled to recharging on the floor. It was a slight improvement. Megatron fell into an undisturbed recharge till a scream from the berthroom snapped him awake. The new knowledge of Trepan having nightmares slipped Megatron’s mind. He bolted straight up and made his way to the berthroom.

“What’s happening in here?!”

\---

Tangled in his mesh prison on the floor, and the little mnemosurgeon was a little bundle of a sound and partially pressurised needles in his nightmare. The scream probably came from falling from berth and bending his antenna on impact, or from the barrage of ‘ _no no no’_ s something in his nightmare had not been pleasant.

Berth wall and floor scratched from his needles, his shoulder and spinal plating scuffed from the wriggling, servos flailing to push away his demons, and vox working overtime in his terror. The room was filled with it from how hard his field was snapping out and out and out like waves. If this was what Trepan ruined his frame for daily, just a few hours of peaceful sleep, it brought a whole new mindset to the state inside Trepan’s helm.

\---

This wasn’t good. Trepan was on the floor thrashing about in the sheets caught around him. He was still asleep from what Megatron could see. Whatever was haunting the mnemosurgeon it had to be horrendous. Megatron took two steps towards Trepan but stopped immediately when he saw those needles sticking out of his digits.

“Trepan! Wake up!”

Megatron cautiously approached Trepan. He grabbed a loose corner of the blanket and yanked it in the hopes of startling Trepan awake.

\---

The yank did nothing to stop the nightmares, the little frame kicking out and trying to push away the phantom servos grabbing at his little frame trying to restrain it, screaming out at the demons behind his offline optics.

It wasn’t clear what he was dreaming about; be it a patient, being one or an enemy, but there was a constant appearance of a phrase. ‘ _I am sorry’_ and ‘ _get off me!’._

Trepan was having a very bad night.

\---

“Slag,” Megatron hissed.

Trepan was still thrashing about. After having removed part of the blanket Megatron could see some of the damage Trepan had done to himself. He needed to restrain him till he woke up. Grabbing at the corner of the blanket again he managed to get one of the sides in both servos and quickly rushed towards Trepan. Megatron pressed the fabric onto Trepan’s shoulders. With those needles out of his immediate reach Megatron wrapped the rest of the blanket around the smaller mech. It was a sloppy job but it restrained Trepan’s flailing limbs enough to stop him from hitting everything, including himself.

“Wake up already!”

\---

Limbs restrained at his chassis, struggles reduced to a drunken worm like status and those flickering optics flared as the nightmare shattered and he was dragged kicking and screaming to the land of the living.

And where Overlord’s face faded Megatron’s took its place. Both a pair of narrowed red optics and giant frames looming causing the little frame to hunker in his poorly wrapped burrito. Probably not the best sight to wake up to after a dream of being chewed.

“I’m sorry. Please, Megatron, I’m _sorry_ ”. Gone was his knowledge of the fools energon and peaceful promise. All he knew is he was trapped in a blanket with a warlord looming over him in the darkness looking far from pleased.

\---

Trepan slowly came down from his violent struggle and his optics came online. Finally. But the look Trepan gave him when their optics met was one he didn’t expect. He had seen the fear his presence brought Trepan but this, this was absolute terror.

“I…..Trepan, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You were hurting yourself in your recharge. You wouldn’t stop screaming.”

Megatron quickly unwrapped the blanket to set the other mech free and stood up to back away.

“I apologize for restraining you but I couldn’t let you keep hurting yourself.”

\---

Optic cleanser pooled at the corners of his optics, an aftereffect of the nightmare he’d tell himself, and he was flinching at the servos reaching out to undo him, slowly sliding back to press where berth met berthside table to form a safe little corner and he was finally looking down at himself.

Energon stained the tips of his needles, unsure where he’d clawed himself, but his plating and paint was a mess.

And Megatron was apologizing. Instead of letting him hurt himself in recharge, he’d restrained and woken the surgeon. Someone he no doubt hated for his treatment on the operating slab. Megatron could have scrapped him in his sleep. But he didn’t. He helped him.

Trepan did not understand.

“I…” Why? Why would someone like Megatron help him? Why would _anyone_ help him?

\---

Megatron looked down at Trepan’s frame while the other mech inspected his own injuries. He didn’t seem to have sustained any serious injuries.

“You might want to get a medic or someone at your work to bend your antenna back straight,” Megatron briefly pointed at Trepan’s helm.

He wasn’t about to offer fixing it himself. The mnemosurgeon didn’t need the silver mech touching him anymore than he did just a minute ago.

“And I wouldn’t recommend going back into another recharge for the day. I’ll heat up some energon while you clean up,” Megatron said before leaving the berthroom and closing the door behind him.

He made a mental note to never disturb Trepan’s long recharges again. If that was the method he had came up with to keep nightmares at bay he now understood why.

\---

Swallowing thickly to calm his ventilations and his mind as Megatron left him in peace and he was slowly reaching up to the antenna to test the damage, working at the base of the addition with a sharp hiss at the sudden wrench back into place and rubbing it straight knowing self repair would fix it properly in a few days.

Leaving the bed in its state save the blanket to wipe his needles on and he was flipping it energon side in to drape around his shoulders and self to inch into the main room where Megatron was sure enough working away at making him some warmed fuel.

Again? Why do this all for him.

“… You can have the berth if you like, I won’t be sleeping for a while” he offered, unsure how to actually say the word _thank_ and _you_ for all the mech had done so far.

\---

Megatron was mixing flavored metals into his own cube when he heard the berthroom door open. He stepped out of the kitchen to see Trepan slowly walk out with the blanket draped over his shoulders. His antenna looked better though not perfect. Megatron held the other cube out towards Trepan.

“I wasn’t sure how you liked your fuel so I left it plain.”

When Trepan offered to let Megatron use his berth he was shocked. Sure he was going to sleep in it anyways but now he had actual permission.

“Thanks….. Are you going back to work today?”

\---

“May as well” he said as he took the warmed cube, not even bothering to hit it with mercury like normal but content to just nurse and sip the gift. “I am awake now, and won’t be recharging for a while so may as well go to work a day early and get my work done ahead of schedule” he said before remembering the comment about a package and wandering over to the kitchen to open it up.

Odd sender. Possible address error?

“…!!!” Gonna close up that box right now. “Well, Starscream is sending us counselling books” he said with a tired little smirk. Oh he was taking one for the walk to work.

\---

The comment from Trepan about his postal package made Megatron roll his optics and sigh. He wasn’t about to discredit anyone’s self-help book, not out loud anyways. But Starscream just had to make this marriage a personal running joke. Megatron waited till Trepan left the kitchen to put his own empty cube in the sink. So far his only agenda on his mind for the day was to clean, starting with the berthroom. But he would wait till Trepan left for work.

“Don’t forget about the Divorce form. The sooner that request is looked at the sooner they can send over the next set of paperwork.”

\---

“Well the place I need to take that to is the opposite direction I need to go for work” He said, drawing a stylus from his subspace to scrawl his signature into to leave on the bench. He’d get to it another day he had off of figure something out. Maybe have a courier come pick it up or drop it off to reception staff. He’d been here a while anyway, they should be nice to him.

“There. Signed. Done” He said, perking up with the fuel slowly.

\---

“Hmm,” the low hum was his only response to Trepan about the form.

Megatron wasn’t going to press the issue. Their morning was going over smoothly, with the exception of restraining the terrified mnemosurgeon. However there was one question he could try his luck with.

“Could I have the access code to the apartment? It gets a little boring in here after four days. And I would like to make a personal visit to Optimus since I still can’t get a hold of him through the comms.”

\---

Was allowing Megatron an access code _wise_ to the apartment? He was already an outcast in both factions, both from turning his back on the one he founded and joining the one he fought against. Everyone had mixed feeling about that, so it wasn’t like Megatron was gong to have a party back here.

“… I don’t see why not on the proviso that you are running errands for me” Trepan nodded, wandering into his office to get the mech a list of errands.

Restock the fuel, with a location of where he bought his fuel and his brand for how much.  
Restock the rust sticks and jelly jets for his office, also with a location of where and how many for how much.  
Where to hand the divorce papers into.  
And the frequency to key in for purchases that Trepan would observe and grant.

\---

Shopping, Megatron could manage that. He agreed to remain strict to the list of items that Trepan gave him. But his first objective was to drop off the divorce form. Megatron left the apartment right after Trepan took of for another long stretch at The Institute. He tested the access code once just to be sure it was authentic. But the moment Megatron made his way into the city he wished he was back at the apartment. The mechs on the street gave him judgmental stares and muttered amongst themselves. Megatron expected nothing less from them. At least with the Lost Light the crew became adjusted with his role as their co-captain to his face. But on Cybertron is was always a new set of faces in the public. Once he dropped off the signed datapad he made his way to the markets. The new form would be ready within two to three weeks so this wouldn’t become a regular routine.

 


	3. Boredom

Megatron picked up the energon, rust sticks, and jelly sets as described on the list. It was interesting to watch a pending transaction under someone else’s name and he expected at least one question about it. But if he knew Starscream the entire marriage most likely became the top gossip of the week. Megatron made it back to the apartment late in the morning. He decided to rest for a while before going out again to see Optimus. Putting away the new fuel and treats the apartment suddenly felt…odd. He made one tour around, couldn’t find anything out of order, and dismissed the feeling as paranoia. Megatron tried once more to call Optimus and finally received an answer.

“The one day I am capable of leaving Trepan’s apartment and you FINALLY answer my call!”

“Things are going well between you two?”

“We haven’t killed each other, yet, if that’s what you mean.”

Despite how civil their morning went the nanites were still in his system. However, Megatron did wonder about the timing on these parasites. He’d have to resume searching the apartment for info on the nanites.

“Even with your new living arrangements you’re still required to take the fools energon on a weekly basis. I can have it ready for you tomorrow.” Optimus said, clearly dodging Megatron’s complaint.

Megatron decided to drop the topic and agreed to see Optimus the next day. For the next few hours he looked through the apartment for any datapads he might have missed. He was in the study trying to get into the computer when the sound of the front door opening nearly made his spark stop. Was the four day work hustle a lie to make him comfortable by himself? Megatron quickly turned off the monitor and rushed out of the study. But it wasn’t Trepan who greeted him in the hall and it scared both mechs.

“Please don’t hurt me! I’m the cleaner for the apartment complex!” the terrified mech shook at the sight of Megatron behind a stack of folded sheets and towels, “I help keep Trepan’s place neat while he’s away for work.”

Trepan never mentioned a cleaner and he didn’t leave Megatron his personal radio frequency to ask him. But Megatron did recognize the berth sheet on top of the stack.

“I just wasn’t expecting anyone to walk in. Do continue your work.”

The cleaning mech tidied away the meshes and was out of the door quickly. Megatron moved his search into the living room, looking through the collection of holovid recordings. Judging by the labels most were medical documentaries. Deep into the collection, however, he ran into some datapads, or so they appeared to be. Megatron inserted one of the unlabeled disks into the holoprojector out of curiosity. The image of two mechs roughly interfacing and the sound of metal clanking made Megatron’s frame heat up a bit and he quickly turned off the projector. His optics stared at the front door for a long moment and he hoped no one heard the lewd noises. Most mechs had seen some sort of porn at least once in their lives, but most didn’t want to be caught with it. Megatron left the holovids alone for now as he didn’t want another hired mech walking into the apartment at that sight. And whatever detergent the cleaner had used for the berth sheets wasn’t the same as before, much to Megatron’s disappointment.

The next day Megatron made a quick visit to see Optimus. The prime was hopeful as always that Megatron’s legal bond would work out. And Megatron had to explain in full detail as to why their personal history with each other harbored too many pains to even function on a friendly level.

“I take that you’ll want to stay here for the time being?” Optimus asked.

Megatron thought about it for a moment. Had Optimus made that offer days ago he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But having the quiet and comfy berth to himself for four days straight was nice. And then there were those holovids he just discovered.

“When Trepan comes back from his work I might. The workaholic leaves his place empty for days at a time.”

If Optimus smiled behind that faceplate he didn’t notice. Megatron left with two one-week supplies of the fools energon and made his way back to the apartment. He would take the first dose right before his recharge tonight so he could sleep through the unpleasant effects. But right now his processor was occupied by those unlabeled holovids. Megatron quickly checked all of the other disks to find all of them containing recordings of mechs interfacing. He didn’t stay with one vid for too long before rotating to another one, checking the front door periodically to be sure that no one else was coming home too early. Megatron could feel his own frame gradually heat up and his cooling fans clicked on. He finally settled on the last vid, and kept the volume down to almost a mute. There were three mechs in this vid, the one in the middle taking the spikes of the other two - one in the intake and one in the valve. Megatron was so entranced by the image before him that his interface panel opened almost without his command.

‘ _Ah slag!’_

Megatron quickly turned off the holovid projector and rushed to the washracks. The last thing he wanted was to make an unnecessary mess in the living room. Megatron tried to cool off under the shower but his frame still ached at the new memories. Self-servicing was something he normally did without fantasies and to quickly relieve stress. But even then he never had much privacy in the past to do it a whole lot. Reaching his servo between his legs he could feel the transfluid that was slowly running out of his valve. Megatron coated the tip of the first two digits enough with the slippery liquid before bringing them up to his anterior node. His other servo braced forward against the shower wall for support. His spinal struts gave out small spasms as he rubbed and rotated his digits across the sensitive spot. He only stopped to press his digits back into his valve for more transfluid. It didn’t take long for him to build up towards an overload. Megatron’s legs began to shake and his knees locked up as he picked up the circular motions.

“Oh…ah…ah! Ah!”

Megatron let out a sudden gasp as he felt his overload surge through his system. He rested against the shower wall for a minute before rinsing his frame off. The rest of his future self-servicing always took place under the warm cascade of water. While the berth was a more comfortable place to lay for such things it would have been difficult to get his smell out. But the recharges were more relaxing and effective after a long shower.

\---

Keying in the code to let himself in and Trepan was leaning against the back of the door with a low groan of just how _nice_ it felt to come home to his habitat and just _stand still_ for a moment. Between surgeries, scheduling, and skeptical reading of Starscream’s gift he’d been eager to get home by the fifth day.

Faceplates splashed with water and he’d forgotten his offer of letting Megatron have the berth in his absence, faceplating the pillows on the berth and out cold before he’d stopped bouncing and just venting long and low. Megatron _might_ have a leach to his side when he woke up a little later in the morning.

\---

Bright red optics stared at Trepan not long after the sun rose. The soft light would have draped over the mnemosurgeon had Megatron’s own large frame not blocked part of the window. How had he not noticed Trepan coming home last night? He was snuggled real close to Megatron, his arms pressed against the grey chassis. And there was that smell Megatron had missed so much. It wasn’t a cleaning detergent but whatever Trepan was wearing. He would have stayed in the berth just for that intoxicating scent had it not come with the sleeping needle nightmare.

‘ _It’s our wedding night all over again_ _,'_ he thought.

Megatron still wished he could remember more of that night and where he went wrong on his clouded judgment. He still didn’t know if they had interfaced or not. It was bad enough that they were legally married but to touch the other mech? Suddenly the memories of the vids he had been watching invaded his current thoughts and he quickly tried to stop his imagination from taking off. Megatron carefully slid his frame away at the foot of the berth, taking his time as to not disturb Trepan. He stared at the smaller mech on his way out of the berthroom just to be sure he wasn’t going to wake up. After a quick refuel in the kitchen Megatron was out the apartment door. He couldn’t do much while Trepan slept and he really needed a different distraction for the day.

\---

Trepan did not once stir as Megatron slowly extracted his frame from beneath the little surgeon, rolling over into the discarded patch of warmth and he was back to the comatose sleep cycle for another twelve hours before waking up little before the afternoon sun had begun to set.

Berth straightened and folded mesh placed neatly, and it was a shower before heading into the kitchen with a dish in mind providing Megatron had bought what he asked. And he was rather pleased when Megatron had proved capable. He wasn’t sure if this faux marriage or this constant exposure was making him as jittery as Trepan.

Still, knife sliding around the energon sphere and he was taking the outer layer off bit by bit in great long strings. The closest comparison to Trepan’s idea in mind? Energon spaghetti.

\---

It was a few hours after sunset when Megatron walked back into the apartment. Without any spare shanix his day was spent with Optimus. While the two were now allied the atmosphere between them was still strange, 4 million years lingering over them. But Megatron had managed to cooperate with the Lost Light over time and he would as well towards his old friend with enough time. As for the Lost Light he had one brief video chat with Magnus, one of the few mechs on the ship who gave him updates without bringing up Megatron’s unfortunate marriage. So when Megatron returned to the apartment he half expected Trepan to still be recharging. He stopped for a moment to listen and heard movement within from the kitchen.

“Housekeeping,” Megatron said in a slightly raised voice to announce his presence from the living room.

\---

Hearing the call and Trepan was slowly reaching for the carving blade to curl his digits around, antenna angled back and plating slick to his frame. He knew the sound of his ‘housekeeping’ and that was not it. Too low. To rumbled. Too … Uneasy. His mind did not instantly flit to ’ _Oh, Megatron must be here_ ’ as by reasoning Megatron would announce himself properly.

The fact he’d slept at home thrice since Megatron had been living with him and awoken alone on that third night meant despite all that secondhand paranoia and fear from his procedures stuck with him for a few days before his system defragged what was not his own, Trepan was still a paranoid little mech with good reason.

So, he didn’t simply take the logical route, afterall why would Megatron announce himself as a _cleaner_? Wasn’t right. Knife at his side in a practised servo, and he was slowly drawing to the separating door between he and ‘the voice’ before flinging it open and stepping through with the blade raised.

\---

The entire apartment fell silent after Megatron spoke. He didn’t think anything of it beyond the great possibility that Trepan was disappointed in Megatron’s return. That mech was ready to be free of this union just as he was. Three weeks at the very most was all they needed. Two weeks if the legal office processed the first form in desirable time. Suddenly the door to the kitchen opened with a noticeable amount of force and Trepan emerged with a knife in his hand. Megatron jumped at the sight and raised his servos up to show that he was unarmed.

“Fragging slag! You have a way of sending mixed messages!”

Megatron began backing up to the front door just in case he needed to bolt out of the place.

\---

Blade out and Megatron all but scrambling away from him, and Trepan was jumping back in the same amount of fright, blade at his side.

“What the frag am I supposed to think when this big voice goes ‘ _ **Housekeeping**_ ’ on a day that I do not pay for?” He asked, “Don’t do that again! If you are home and wish to announce yourself to see if I am, simply say ‘ _Hello_ ’, even ‘ _I’m home_ ’ if you feel more _wifely”_ He glowered, storming back into the kitchen.

“I nearly stabbed you in the neck cables!” Trepan? You can’t _reach_ his neck cables…

\---

“I understand that I have a dry sense of humor at times but jeeze! It was supposed to be a joke!” Megatron quickly defended himself, “Because I clean your apartment while you’re away.”

He then sat down on the sofa to calm himself.

“Speaking of your housecleaning, I think I accidentally scared that poor mech a few days ago. He walked right in to drop off your berth meshes and towels and saw me.”

Megatron rested his helm on the back of the sofa. He should have taken Optimus’ offer, why did he pass that perfect opportunity?

“Also the new divorce forms should be ready for pick-up between two to three weeks.”

\---

“There is nothing _humorous_ about being trapped in a marriage with the mech who tried to murder you and fragged you up both in helm, frame, and spark” He grumbled to the steam coming off the pans of energon, stirring them with a scowl. He didn’t care if Megatron heard his little quip or not, but he _was_ partially holding Megatron responsible for most of his nightmares.

A grunt at scaring his cleaner and he was walking into the main lounge with his bowl and he was perching on the arm of a chair to pop a swirled fork of energon strings into his intake to chew.

“Two to three? Isn’t that … Rather long? Can’t you pull some Decepticon intimidation tactics to speed up the process?”

\---

Megatron wasn’t going to make any comment to Trepan’s remark. Whatever good mood he left on days ago was gone. He should have known better, even after leaving the apartment for most of the day to let the mech enjoy his own home. Whatever meal Trepan had cooked smelled delicious. Megatron would refuel later once Trepan calmed down a bit.

“Yeah sure, I’ll just walk back into the court office and threaten to put them on the DJD hit list,” Megatron dramatically tapped his Autobot badge.

“That’ll go over well for everyone.”

In reality the court wouldn’t buy such a lie anyways. The city was too big even for a ruthless group of five Decepticons to attack. That’s why Starscream was safe from them as long as he stayed in Iacon. Not that Megatron would threaten anyone with the DJD, he was too busy avoiding them himself.

“You know, for making such a fuss over this ‘marriage’ you had no problem using me as a berth warmer last night.”

\---

“How do you know if you don’t try?” he asked with another happy mouthful, making himself comfortable on the chair arm and sitting content to chew.

Berth warmer?

What on Cybertron was he on about?

“I do not follow” he blinked, unaware his ‘come home’ routine had involved Megatron at the final destination at the time.

\---

Optics narrowed at Trepan in disbelief. Surely the mnemosurgeon was just yanking his chain after scaring each other just minutes ago.

“You may be a heavy recharger but it is still a challenge for a mech my size to slide out of berth when caught between a wall and you snuggled up against me. I would have moved to the sofa had you asked when you got home last night.”

\---

Had Megatron blown a diode when Trepan had scared him? What on earth was he talking about? He’d come home, washed and gone to berth. Megatron could not have possibly… The street light. Shit curtains had a ‘spot’ of area that allowed a line of sun and outdoor light to come through. Trepan didn’t remember seeing it in berth. And it _had_ been warmer than he remembered.

He felt sick.

\---

“Are you ok?” Megatron asked when Trepan fell silent.

The other mech had stopped eating all together and he looked like someone just told him that the civil war had picked up again. If Trepan was acting he was doing a damn good job at it.

“Wow….you need to rethink your work habits. You forgot that you gave me the berth while you’re away and you didn’t see me? Bad enough you walked in on me in the bath last time and the lights were on that day.”

\---

 _berth warmer_  
snuggled up against  
didn’t see me

Plate coming to rest on the seat of the chair and Trepan was ducking into the kitchen to splash his faceplates and neck cabling with water at the sudden chill that made his tanks feel like purging and his audial ringing. Megatron was right. His work habit needed to change. Twice he had come home too tired to think of the consequences, and had been caught unaware by Megatron. Who wasn’t to say the third time would be a pair of twisting servos or a blade to his frame? If Megatron saw an opportunity to offline him, what was to stop him finishing a job he started all those eons ago? His new faction? His change of spark? His vows? He doubted Megatron feared an execution.

He’d work from home for a while.

\---

“Trepan?” Megatron called out when the other mech didn’t return from the kitchen for a while.

“I’ll settle on the sofa for the night.”

He could wait to refuel in the morning or until Trepan retired to the berthroom, whichever happened first. Megatron stretched out on the small furniture, adjusting the pillow right behind his neck.

\---

“… I’m fine” he said, wetting his neck cabling and faceplates again when his venting dulled the urge to empty his tanks and he was straightening, pulling himself into order on the outside as last thing he needed was Megatron to cater that little burst towards weakness.

Another plate of fuel brought out and handed over, and he was taking his own back to the arm rest to perch and nibble.

“… Have you been sleeping on the couch like that? You know it folds out into a berth, right? Its why I offered it to you in the first place.”

\---

Megatron takes the plate of fuel with a thank you as he sits back upright on the sofa. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if Trepan might have done something to the dish after learning about last night. He almost takes the first bite when Trepan mentions the sofa folding out.

“It does what?” Megatron stands up immediately.

Putting the plate on the coffee table Megatron begins to feel around the furniture’s cushions. And after pulling back the seat cushions he sees the inner joints that expand it into a berth.

“Well frag me….” he groans.

After replacing the cushions Megatron sits back down and grabs the plate again. The energon strands were a lot tastier than he expected.

“This is actually really good.”

\---

Starting at the sudden stand of the mech making him flop scramble into his seat and he was watching wide eyed at the mech molesting the sofa cushions for the internal mechanism before cursing.

“… Have you honestly just figured that out? Is that why you were so startled to have my berth when I was away?” Trepan asks, nibbling timidly at an energon ball once Megatron settled in again. He found his spark rate dropped to a calmer pulse when Megatron wasn’t loud, or moving.

Megatron may be on probation, but he still had red optics for a reason…

\---

“Yes…” Megatron answered.

He was not about to confess to Trepan that he already slept in his berth even before he had permission to do so.

“I will say the blanket is a nice addition. Not a necessity for my own frame temperature, but it is nice.”

Megatron got up only once more to wash his plate, mindful to not startle Trepan more than he already had tonight. And a quick trip to the washracks before making his way back to the sofa. Megatron moved the coffee table enough to fold out the furniture into the berth. It wasn’t as comfortable as Trepan’s but it was an improvement from the sofa itself. Now the only thing left keeping him awake late at night was the knowledge that Trepan was still in the apartment and not passed out after days of work. After a few hours recharging Megatron came online to the soft sounds in another room. If Trepan was going to work he sure was having a late start today.

\---

Having already recharged yesterday, and apparently snuggled up to Megatron in the process and he was content to simply pop into the office and work from home. He could still sign papers, roster staff, create schedules and answer emails from his office so he really saw no reason to head on in to work unless called in to perform a frame swap or some change management.

It also eliminated the thought in his helm that Megatron might think he was scared and or hiding from him at work nearly a week at a time. If Megatron saw him weak, he might try something. He wasn’t sure how long he would buy that nanite gimmick and until he got some of that fools energon for Megatron he wasn’t sure he wanted Megatron to try and make some rules.

\---

Megatron looked around the cabinets as he waited for the energon to heat up. The guest berth had been folded back into a sofa and the coffee table moved to its original place. If Trepan wasn’t going into The Institute today then he’d have to recharge in it again. Megatron poured the energon into a mug once it was steaming and added a single scoop of magnesium. Judging from the canisters the mercury was used the most and was probably Trepan’s favorite. But he decided to ask the mech before offering him a cup with additives already in it.

“Trepan?” Megatron called from outside the closed door of the office.

He heard the tapping of a keypad, either from a datapad or the computer. Megatron shifted his weight between his pedes waiting for a response.

“I heated up some energon but I still don’t know how you like yours.”

\---

Oh the mercury was his favourite alright, what other canisters would last six to twelve months, mercury lasted him barely a month. He liked the aftertaste and the way it buzzed in his sensors at the back of his jaw plate. Pausing his work and looking out the door at the mech standing near it, and he was pushing from his console to come closer to the door cautiously.

“Mercury. Two scoops after you pour” he said, exiting the study when Megatron moved.

\---

Megatron moved to the side to give Trepan more than enough room to pass by. Well, he guessed the mercury right.

“So you do have weekends,” he commented before taking a drink from his own cube.

For a while he began to believe that Trepan worked every moment he was online. Megatron was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t have the apartment to himself for the day. His personal entertainment would have to wait out a little longer. And as if the universe was personally mocking him a message notification popped up in the corner of his HUD. It was from Rodimus.

 _:: To Megatron ::_  
.:Did you bang him yet?:.  
:: Captain Rodimus Prime of the Lost Light ::

Megatron let out a quiet groan and quickly deleted the message. He wasn’t about to play his game. Megatron finished off his energon, tasting the magnesium more in the last swing as some of it settled on the bottom of the cube. He needed to enjoy the sweet taste before consuming the awful fools energon later in the day.

\---

“I do have weekends” He lied as he strolled past Megatron into the kitchen, keeping him in sight at all times and collecting a mug to pour the energon into and following with two scoops of mercury and stirred the everloving slag out of it till there would be no grit in the base like Megatron’s.

Technically, Trepan could be on paid leave with how far his work was in advance, but he liked the job and it ended in less nightmares with how he operated. He just wasn’t sure how long he could stay awake here doing paperwork outside his usual mindset environment. And having this big blundering oaf tottering around?

He was going to have plenty of distractions.

\---

Megatron peered inside the office though he remained outside the open door. That medical berth in the corner felt creepy once again now that the mnemosurgeon was home. Looking back at the computer he suddenly remembered a question that had been burning in his processor ever since the first day he was alone in the apartment.

“Can I ask you something?” Megatron called out as he made his way back to the kitchen to put away his empty cube.

“While I was cleaning last week I found some usb sticks in the berthroom. I found it kind of strange that you didn’t have them in your study.”

\---

He heard Megatron arriving before he spoke, hard not to with how heavy each pede landed on the floor and he was contemplating wrapping them up in some mesh to protect the floor from non-occurring scuffs and scrapes. But that question made him think.

“USB sticks?” he asked, turning to face the mech with a frown that displayed his confusion. “I am afraid you have lost me, Megatron. My house is as organized as it is neat, your arrival included. Unless you put them there, there should be no ‘USB sticks’ in my berthroom.”

\---

Perhaps Trepan had forgotten about the sticks or simply misplaced them. No one was perfect and the apartment was rather big for one mech to live in, even if it was well organized.

“Hold on,” Megatron put the cube next to the sink before disappearing to the berthroom.

After a quick minute he returned with the small sticks in his open palm extended towards Trepan.

“These. Did you happen to misplace them? I was going to put them next to your computer but I wasn’t sure if they were intentionally left in the berthside table.”

\---

Tilting his helm as at the mech placing his energon down on the sink and trotting off and he was wracking his processor for just _what_ Megatron was talking about, the talk of _USB sticks_ lost on him on their real meaning till Megatron suddenly came back with a servo held out full of the ‘usb chips’ and Trepan’s usually calm demeanour went back flipping out the window in a hiss of vents with how hard he breathed in. A _lunge_ trying to snatch them from the palm and he wasn’t caring for how his energon spilled slightly when an elbow knocked it along the counter and he looked horrified.

“ _Why were you going through my berthside table drawers if you were cleaning!?”_

\---

The loud vent and wide optics caught Megatron’s attention. Whatever was on these small sticks must have been important. And when Trepan lunged at him a sudden thought clicked in Megatron’s mind. Carefully closing his servo Megatron brought his arm up over his own helm.

“These are for the nanites aren’t they?”

They had to be a controller or a signal hotspot. How else was Trepan disabling them all the way from The Institute.

\---

Servos swiping empty air as the digits curled and the arm was raised high over the silver helm, and Trepan was staring up in _horror_ at what Megatron thought they were. Oh frag it all to Unicron and back.

Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Megatron didn’t know _what_ they were. But If he thought they were for the nanites, he might tamper around with them and those things _were_ rather hard to come by, not to mention expensive.

How the frag did Megatron _not_ know what they were? He was as old as Trepan if not maybe older, cables and ports _surely_ were around when Megatron was ‘in his prime’, right?

“No. They are not for the nanties” Trepan whined, mortified.

\---

Trepan looked devastated that Megatron had a hold of whatever these things were. His words denied that they were for the nanites and he seemed truthful about it. Maybe they held legal documents or some other important files or photos. However, they didn’t fit into the computer in the office. But if they were for the nanites Trepan wouldn’t admit it right away, at least Megatron didn’t think so.

“If they’re not for the nanites then what are they for? Because it’s clear that these aren’t USB sticks for storing data,” Megatron stared at Trepan, his face calm and his servo still above his helm.

\---

Helm hung slightly, not even bother to jump and or lunge for the sticks held, and Trepan was hunching his shoulders slightly at the crushing _weight_ of what Megatron held in his servo unawares to their use.

Oh, they were used for storing data in a certain way.

“…. _theyareforfing_ ” Comes the little mumble from the little surgeon. “Can I have those back now?”

\---

Megatron’s optics narrow when a mumble comes from Trepan. He strained for a quick moment to try to figure out what he could have said. The mnemosurgeon looked defeated and Megatron began to wonder if he should have kept his curiosity to himself. But he needed to know how the nanites worked and how to permanently disable them.

“I didn’t hear what you said,” Megatron replied, bringing his closed servo down slightly.

\---

“I said they are for interfacing so can I have those back now!?” He yelled, slumped against the kitchen counter and faceplates in a servo with a low groan of absolute mortification to a conversation that had gone from ‘ _what would you like in your energon’_ to interface chips.

“You are Megatronus the poet, Megatron the gladiator and leader of the Decepticons, destroyer of worlds and breaker of spark bonds. How can you be as clueless about this as a virgin?” he whined, dragging his energon closer to him to sip from.

\---

‘ _For interfacing’_

Those words echoed in Megatron’s processors and he felt like Cyberton’s biggest idiot. Trepan was obviously trying to avoid the subject and it just never clicked that an item in a _berthside table_ would be for personal uses. Very personal uses. Megatron’s face twisted into disgusted horror and he tossed the chips onto the counter next to Trepan.

“Oh gross!”

Without even asking the other mech to move Megatron rushed around Trepan to the sink. He turned the hot water on full blast and began scrubbing his servos furiously. He only stopped when Trepan said that one word, that one secret Megatron held onto even from all of his former Decepticon soldiers. His wide optics now stared at Trepan as the water continued to run over his servos.

\---

Jumping to the side at the sudden rush of mech for the sink, and he was collecting the little chips into his servos to check for damage and glad to see they were fine, watching Megatron scrub like he’d touched something infected with red rust.

“They aren’t THAT gross.” No more ‘gross’ that connecting a cable or port to any other technology like datapads or consoles. No one said ‘gross’ putting devices on charge, or installing a new screen to a console.

“It’s you’re own fault for snooping. But seriously, how does a mech like you have no experience in what you picked up? It’s not like you weren’t around in those days.”

\---

“You just said they were used for interfacing and you expect me to react any less?” Megatron snapped back.

He reached for some of the cleaning solvent and went back to scrubbing. He needed quickly come up with a lie as to why he didn’t know the purpose of the chips. Sure he had seen things like false spikes but nothing as complex as those tiny things.

“We weren’t exactly given luxury items in the energon mines,” Megatron said, turning off the faucet and reaching for a small towel.

He didn’t know how well that would go as he spent only his very early years in the mines.

\---

“Seriously? You’ve shot, dismembered, torn apart, punched, kicked, bit, and guttered your opponents in a gladiator pit and on a battle field, but a ‘USB stick’ that connects to a standard port creeps you out?” He scoffed, placing them in his subspace and trying to clean up the spilled mess.

“Energon mines or not, you’d have something down there when off shift. I doubt Messatine was crawling with Virgin Mary miner mechs.”

\---

Megatron’s legs reflexively moved closer together when Trepan said where the sticks were used and his face showed more disgust. He was trying to not think about Trepan fragging another mech and he wanted to drop the subject.

“All we really had was each other in the mines. Nothing fancy. Just quick frags to let off some steam,” Megatron said, ” Besides, I spent most of my free time writing my first drafts for _Towards Peace_. You know, those writings that caught the attention of my superiors and brought together our first meeting.”

Megatron let out a sigh, one servo covering his face before dragging it down.

“I’m sorry I dug through your stuff.”

\---

“You nerd” Trepan said at the admittance of Megatron’s midnight escapades of ‘pleasure’, but it lacked the harshness one would be expecting and sounded almost … Affectionate in an odd way. But surely not.

But that leg movement wasn’t unnoticed.

“Megatron.” He said, as clearly the meaning went over that silver helm. “Standard Ports” he said slowly, as if talking to a child, walking over and tapping Megatron on the chassis under his chamber where no doubt beneath all that battle plating he had a set of cables and ports like most ‘vintage frames’, to collect a refill.

“They are a simple sensation and data chip that sends packets back and forth.”

\---

Megatron flinched slightly at the touch from Trepan. He hadn’t expected the smaller mech to approach him as he tried to explain the use of the chips in further detail. ‘Port’ didn’t mean ‘valve’ and Megatron felt like a bigger idiot as this conversation progressed. His outer frame was still fairly new and he hadn’t explored all of its details completely. Megatron waited for Trepan’s digit to leave his chassis before attempting to open part of his chest panel. A short grinding screech came from Megatron’s broken t-cog and he gritted his denta at the sharp pain.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” Megatron hissed under his breath.

After the pain subsided he reached his servos up to manually pull back the plating Trepan had poked at. The digits from his other servo graced over the small internal components in an almost blind search for these ports.

\---

Watching Megatron from the corner of his optics, filling his glass with warm energon and another scoop of mercury and Trepan was staking claim to the couch to catch up on some of the holovids he had missed. But not before he taught Megatron a lesson.

One had to give the little surgeon credit for how fast he could move.

Servo a blur as it struck, expert precision (probably from practice) and Megatron would find one of the little chips connected nice and snug to a port with a little _ding_ in his HUD of installation and Trepan wasn’t even sure what he’d plugged the poor bastard with but he was leaving the room.

“ _That_ is for snooping.”

\---

Megatron almost didn’t notice what Trepan had just done until a notice popped up on his HUD informing him that a new program had been installed. Both of his servos began to frantically feel around until he located a small bump that didn’t belong. He tried to grasp his digits around the invading object but his large digits couldn’t pick it out.

“Trepan!” panic began to surface in his vox.

With his chassis still exposed he followed Trepan into the living room.

“Look I’m sorry I snooped around. I just cannot stand having these nanites in me!”

Apart from the notification in his vision his frame didn’t feel noticeably different.

\---

Trepan said nothing, flicking through the holovid channels for what peaked his interest media wise like Megatron was not even there. There was some drain deer documentaries, he could get into that. A few strange rom coms about dating a spark eater, ew.

\---

In his attempt to remove the nanites from his system Megatron now had another unwanted foreign object inside of him. Megatron stared at Trepan who was blatantly ignoring his pleas as he flipped through the holovid. He deserved this punishment and he knew it. Admitting defeat Megatron closed his chassis panel and slouched over to the sofa, sitting next to Trepan yet remaining as far to his side as possible.

“Can I at least know what this…thing does? Because right now I don’t feel any different than normal.”

If this chip was used during interfacing it was currently not providing whatever it was supposed to do.

\---

“Then you have the inhibitor chip. Prevents an overload” He said flatly, inching over against the arm of the couch pressed into his side with how both parties slid away from the other like reverse polarity magnets. Negative magnetism.

“But isn’t it universal knowledge that you put personal items in your bedside table? Its in books, movies, stories. You don’t look in the top drawer.”

\---

Oh frag, that was just his luck. The moment he became accustomed to regular self-servicing it just had to be put to a sudden halt.

“But that’s why I looked in your berthside table. I am going to confess right now that I was looking for any way to permanently disable the nanites and I was hoping that you could have hidden something in there thinking I wouldn’t look in there.”

Megatron fell silent for a minute, his attention barely on the holovid screen.

“So….how long do you plan on keeping this inhibitor chip in me?”

\---

“If I was to hide something from you, Megatron, wouldn’t the most obvious solution be to remove it from your surroundings? Like hm, maybe, _take it to where I work_?” He said, turning to nail Megatron with a glare.

“But as to how long I plan on keeping this inhibitor chip in you, it will be until I feel you have learned your lesson” He said, turning back to the screen.

\---

Without even saying a word Megatron got up and rushed past Trepan’s view towards the washracks. He pried open his chassis armor again in front of the large mirror. He could see the stub of the chip contrasting against the silver metal of his inner frame. Megatron began picking at the chip with his digits. But he still couldn’t grasp it. He then rummaged through all of the drawers to find any sort of makeshift tool to grab the chip. No luck. The only thing he found of mild interest was the source of that smell he found intoxicating - a bottle of body polish. Megatron caught a whiff of the scent on a small cloth next to the bottle. But with his main attention on the inhibitor chip he closed the drawer without messing with the polish. He was frustrated, both with himself and Trepan. He needed to keep his private actions on the low till he could earn some of Trepan’s trust. And right now he needed to cool off on his own. As he was already in the washracks he settled for a hot soak in the bath while Trepan continued to watch his holovid in the living room.

\---

Twisting to watch Megatron rush for the washracks and Trepan was tuning his attention back to the holovid with a smirk, pedes kicked up onto the coffee table and arms folded behind his helm smugly.

That would teach Megatron not to underestimate him, or to poke his nasal ridge where it did not belong.

“You alright back there _darling_?”

\---

Megatron let out an annoyed groan when he heard Trepan call out to him. He had already settled into the hot mixture of water and foamy solvent, his pedes perched up against the adjacent wall as he tried to sink his upper body deeper in the bath.

“I’m fine, _dear!_ ” Megatron shouted back.

A part of him shuddered at the words that slipped from his glossa.

“It’s not like I wanted my self-servicing time anyways!”

\---

“Then perhaps you won’t be so rude to the person keeping your aft off a gutter for the duration of this documentation” he said, “And don’t yell in my house!”

You know what? It was Saturday and early in the evening. When was the last time he’d gone out and had a night of fun and flings? With a big grey guard dog lurking, he doubted anyone would come a knocking.

“Holovid is yours. I’m going out” He hummed as he strolled into the washracks for said polish cloth and giving himself a little rub down till he gleamed.

\---

“You yelled first,” Megatron grumbled to himself.

He settled into the water once Trepan announced that he was going out. Maybe he could find a tool somewhere else in the apartment to reach the chip once he left. Megatron’s optics widened when he saw Trepan walk into the washracks. He shifted himself in the water to intentionally announce his presence. But Megatron quickly caught on that Trepan knew he was there. The mech retrieved the body polish and proceeded to rub down his entire frame, stretching and reaching almost in a display.

“Do you have to?” Megatron muttered, his optics never leaving Trepan.

\---

“Yes” He said, finishing up with his arms and servos to place the cloth back in its pot and standing up tall before the mirror to examine himself for missed spots but pleased with his even coat.

“I haven’t had a chance to go out and have a nice time in a while, I usually don’t time my shifts right to get the weekend off, so this will be some time to unwind some charge.” he said, almost _flaunting_ his lack of chip before striding from the room.

“Don’t wait up!” Plus, why shouldn’t he have a fling? It’s not like this marriage was _real_ or wanted, right?

\---

Megatron groaned as he watched Trepan leave the washracks. In the distance he could hear the front door open and close as his conjunx left for the night. Megatron remained in the bath still fuming over the inhibitor chip inside his chassis. But he began to wonder if the inhibitor chip really did what Trepan said. Megatron sat up in the bath to reach for the drain switch.

The bath gurgled as the last of the water and solvent drained away. Megatron stood up and listened for any possible sign that Trepan was still in the apartment. Once he was certain that the other mech was gone he slid the glass door on the shower closed and turned the faucet back on. When the water heated back up he flipped the switch that directed the water flow to the shower head. He let the water rinse off the leftover solvent before detaching the hose from its holster. He was going to need the instant aid as he didn’t feel like dragging out the vids just for this test.

Megatron opened his interface panel and he held the hose just a few inches away from his anterior node. The cords in his upper thighs instantly tensed up and his valve clenched at the sudden sharp sensation. He moved the direction of the water flow till it hit a more comfortable but pleasurable spot. So far his frame reacted to the stimulation the same way it always had. And for a moment Megatron was about to mentally call out Trepan’s bluff.

“Mmmmh!”

Megatron vented heavily as he felt his charge rise quickly. He moved the direction of the hose once more to trigger his overload when he felt a painful ache tug in his lower abdomen and a notification flashed in the corner of his HUD.

_DENIED_

“No! Come on!”

Moving the hose back to its original spot he tried to build his charge back up only to have the same message flash in his vision while his charge remained at its very edge. He tried repeatedly until the water from the shower head turned cold. Perfect. Trepan was out having fun with some random mech and Megatron was left with even more frustration. He washed off the transfluid that leaked out during his futile attempt to self-service and retired to the berth. If Trepan wanted his berth back when he got home he’d have to wake Megatron up first.

\---

Trepan was out having fun with some random mech alright from the paint transfers and all manner of scuffs and scrapes to his form when he returned home at Primus knows what time in the morning.

A little sit in at the bar had turned to an occupied seat beside him. Conversation turned into dancing. And dancing led to a little stagger back to … Primus, he didn’t even remember his name. Oh well. His frame wasn’t complaining.

He hardly spared a thought to his stickybeak little housemate in the process of cleaning up and getting ready for berth before recharge hit him.

 


	4. Petty Spite

Megatron let out a dramatic exvent. Trepan was snuggled up against Megatron yet again when he woke up. Though his frame was tangled in a mess of blankets Megatron could see some of the paint transfers and scuff marks on the other mech. Evidence of his fun time out last night. Trepan didn’t smell strongly of his own polish anymore but thankfully he didn’t smell like whomever he was with last night. The little fragger just had to rub it in that he could get his release. Megatron decided to make Trepan learn the hard way for his own repeated mistake. Carefully reaching his arm out of the blanket he wrapped it around Trepan’s slender waist, gently holding the mech against his chassis and waited for him to wake up from his recharge.

\---

At first, the additional arm went unnoticed as it drew him into a warm chassis, the cold little surgeon burrowing into the silver plating to soak up as much of the warmth as possible before he began to realize. He had left thingy’s habsuite once he’d fallen asleep after a dismal but satisfying frag. He’d come home to berth. Why was there warmth beside him?

Against his arm, Megatron would feel _all_ that spinal plating rise and the little frame tense.

“…………….. Why are you in my berth?” he asks, vox meek and not daring to move

\---

When Megatron felt Trepan move and tense up he moved his helm back slightly to look down at the mech. The mnemosurgeon’s confusion was just as he expected.

“Good morning, darling,” Megatron smirked, “You told me not to wait up on you so I didn’t know when you would return home. Besides, your berth is more comfortable than the fold-out sofa.”

He then lifted his arm off of Trepan but made no actual attempt to leave the berth just yet.

\---

“Makes no difference. I said you could have the berth when I am at work as I am not using it” he said, granted a little softer and somewhat hesitant but still trying to hold his ground and not move despite no arm holding him in place.

More fuel. Smaller days. More alert. This was now trice he hadn’t noticed Megatron in the same room as he and he had his suspicions a fourth would be fatal.

\---

“Well then, allow me to apologize for the misunderstanding,” Megatron said in a borderline sarcastic tone.

Lifting himself upright the larger mech slid off the berth at the foot just as he had the other night.

“Nice to see at least one of us had fun last night,” he gave Trepan a quick look over before leaving the berthroom.

“And I know, two scoops of mercury,” Megatron added right outside the open door.

\---

Blinking at the sudden disappearance of the source or heat and he was slinking into the abandoned side of the berth to burrow into, drawing the blankets around him and curling up to face the door.

Why did his temporary wife have to be so warm? He wanted him _out_ of his berth but that meant he was all cold again.

Frag it all to hell. Maybe he’d get breakfast in berth, without poison.

\---

Megatron mixed the mercury and magnesium into their respective cubes once the energon heated up. He had half expected Trepan to appear in the kitchen by now. When he didn’t Megatron walked back into the berthroom with the cubes. He quirked a curious look at Trepan who was still in berth, snuggled extra tight in the sheets and on the side Megatron was in only minutes ago.

“I’m starting to believe that you actually want me as a snuggle buddy but you don’t want to admit it,” he said, holding Trepan’s cube out towards him.

\---

“Incorrect” He denied, little blanketed arms reaching out to take the cube and bring it back to his chassis to nurse while it was still too hot to drink.

“Post highgrade chills. My systems are no longer as hot as they are when fueled on something so potent”

Megatron? As a snuggle buddy? Pff! Don’t make me laugh.

\---

“Highgrade? Well no wonder you didn’t see me yet again. Or perhaps you just didn’t care at the time,” Megatron said before taking a drink from his own cube.

“I’ll try to be quiet around the apartment if you feel the need to recharge some more.”

To be honest he didn’t have much planned for the day. He’d do some cleaning, maybe run an errand if Trepan asked, and then take his weekly energon fool dose right before his recharge.

\---

Note to self;  
More fuel, less high grade, better awareness, deeper recharge from now on.

“I don’t have a hangover, not yet anyways, so I don’t need silence. Haven’t had a hangover in years so I should be fine.” He shrugged, having not occurred to him that with Megatron’s servos he couldn’t actually remove it himself. He assumed the mech had already removed the device.

\---

Megatron left Trepan alone in the berthroom once again. Apart from his empty energon cube there wasn’t much to tidy up, not with Trepan still in the berth. Then the idea came to him that he could possibly get some help in removing the inhibitor chip.

“I’m going to see Optimus for a bit. I’ll be back this evening,” Megatron called out before leaving the other mech home alone.

\---

Laying down in the abandoned patch of warmth and he was propping himself up on the pillows to vent and sip his energon with a happy hum of his Vox.

Megatron leaving? Fine by him. He intended to change the access code and do some cooking for the next few nights in advance since he’d be working from home and having some pre-made meals would be a nice change to cubed rations.

Let Megatron go see Optimus. The Prime could deal with the tyrant for a while. He might enjoy a few hours in the bath himself for a deep soak and full frame clean now that he had some privacy. His chassis components needed some attention and in their melted state he liked the peace of mind of solitude to do so.

\---

Well that was a complete waste of a trip. Optimus had left the city for a few days and gave Megatron no forewarning. Not that it was really expected and the silver mech was kicking himself mostly for not calling ahead of time. When he returned to Trepan’s apartment the sun was beginning to set. And upon entering the access code given to him the lock gave him an invalid message. Thinking that he entered it wrong the first time he tried again but got the same message.

“Trepan…” Megatron groaned before knocking on the door.

“Trepan! Let me in!”

He wasn’t concerned if the neighbors heard him or not.

“Optimus is out of town, call him yourself if you don’t believe me. And I swear I’ll stay on the sofa when you’re not at work.”

\---

With his mangled secret tenderly cleaned and oiled for some pain relief and it was into the kitchen to experiment and whip up some fuel for the next few days while working from home. Something spicy seemed like the way to go. Gasket Burner with a soothing hint of nickel. Of which, from the look of his minerals he’d need to buy more mercury and magnesium, mostly the foremost.

“… The pit?” He murmured at some new additions to his fuel cupboard, drawing a cube out to examine and peeling a corner to take a sip before gagging. Off. Definitely off. Each cube sniffed and he was tipping the collection down the drain long before Megatron tried to come home and yowling at the door like a stray.

.:Sorry, the person you are trying to reach is unavailable right now. Please leave your name and comm.link and try again later:. He said over the exterior intercom as he washed and placed the last cube on the drying rack before returning to his simmering fuel to continue stirring.

\---

Megatron let out another groan when Trepan impersonated a voice mail message. He pressed the button to speak, stating his comm-link number first. With how much time they were spending around each other it was about time that Trepan had his number. He would definitely need to change his number once he returned to the Lost Light, bad enough that Starscream still had his frequency.

“Optimus is out of town, I am not making this up I..,” Megatron paused for a moment to think, “Trepan, I will cut you a deal. Once Optimus returns I’ll spend the remainder of the wait time at his place.”

The last place Megatron wanted to do was to recharge against the front door.

\---

Antenna flicking up at the offer of a deal and Trepan was pausing where he stood to listen to the offered peace treaty to come back inside. Wasn’t a bad deal, only part of it in Megatron’s favour was the duration of Optimus’s vacation.

“I accept” He nodded, even if Megatron could not see it, and letting the doors hiss open as he went back to cooking.

He hoped Megatron liked spicy foods. It wasn’t called a ‘gasket burner’ for nothing.

\---

Letting out an exvent of relief and Megatron walked back into the apartment. Judging by the smell Trepan was cooking dinner. Megatron didn’t expect him to share his meal as it was clear that Trepan intended to keep Megatron out. Between snooping into Trepan’s personal belongings and sleeping in his berth during his weekend Megatron was starting to overstep his boundaries. He needed to be careful from now on no matter how spiteful he felt.

“The minute Optimus is back in the city I will be out of your space,” he said as he made his way into the kitchen.

Megatron cautiously squeezed past Trepan towards the cupboard where he kept his fools energon. A dose of that stuff and he’d spend the rest of the night falling into a lethargic recharge. But when he opened the cupboard the cubes were missing. He looked through a few other doors before his optics caught sight of the drying rack next to the sink. Picking up one of the empty cubes he examined its small label.

“Oh slag. I should have told you this was the fools energon Optimus gave me last week.”

\---

“Good. I look forward to his return” Came the offhanded grunt from the little mech as he kept stirring and stirring till he deemed it ready for consumption and he was packing it into little transport cubes for work knowing no one would dare touch his fuel with this level of spice. An apprentice had tried to down it on a lunch break and the had to call a medic from the way he was coughing smoke.

And then Megatron’s words brought him out of his fond memory.

Fools Energon. The very energon he tipped out not fifteen minutes ago. The energon no doubt keeping Megatron so weak and compliant.

“….Ohslag”

\---

“I might be able to get the local clinic to supply another set,” Megatron said when he noticed the response from Trepan.

While the fools energon did weaken his system and possibly parts of his processors even Megatron knew that the energon was used mostly to reassure all the mechs around him.

“A few days without the energon shouldn’t make too much of a difference,” he added before making his way back to the living room.

\---

So he said, but just because Megatron had left his Decepticon days behind him did not mean Trepan was placated. Not at all. If anything, it had him more on edge than a syk user hitting withdrawals. So hyperfocused and jittery.

“I’d … I’d offer you some fuel but I doubt you’d like it” he said quietly, still backed into his corner of the kitchen with a dry intake.

No fools energon = no restraint on his strength.

All it took was one wrong move, one wrong word, and he could end up torn apart. Why the frag was Optimus letting this loose cannon reside at _his_ habsuite!?

\---

“I was just going to wait till the morning to refuel, but I’ll give your cooking a taste,” Megatron said.

He noticed the change in Trepan’s behavior. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up the fools energon. The mnemosurgeon refused to take his optics off of him and was trying to merge his frame into the counter or the wall, whichever would take his frightful self first.

“You obviously planned to eat alone tonight so I won’t take up your entire meal.”

\---

“It’s fine, I have my ration on the bench” He said slowly, keeping stock still against the kitchen counter watching Megatron’s only move and slowly inching left away from him to the other end of the ‘L’ shaped kitchen when Megatron would move for the steaming fuel to plate up his own.

He hated being cornered like this, like some Iacon hound, but the kitchen in all its extravagance was designed for style and luxury like the rest of the habsuite, not escape routes.

Nice and slow movements. Look calm, keep your field calm, be calm.

\---

Megatron only moved towards the offered plate once Trepan returned back to the far corner of the kitchen. It felt like his first day in the apartment after the Lost Light left him all over again. He could smell how strong the flavor of the meal was before it hit his glossa. But the minute he felt an extreme heat spread in his intake his face scrunched up and he did his best to power through the one bite. He didn’t want to be rude by spitting the food back out. Quickly putting the plate back down Megatron rushed to the sink and began quickly scooping the running water into his intake. Once most of the pain subsided he turned off the water, still hunched over the sink.

“I think I’m going to have to politely decline your dinner,” Megatron coughed, “What did you put in that?”

\---

Scrambling out of the way at Megatron’s lunge for the sink and he was drawing himself up and over near his own fuel to put distance between them at the mech spitting and trying to cool his glossa from the burn.

“Thermite?” He said slowly, watching the poor mech suffer with the heat before fetching him a little shot glass of nitrogen. “Hold it in your intake, don’t swallow it” he offered as it was placed near the edge of the sink before backing up again with his own plate to nibble it. Wasn’t _that_ spicy…

\---

Taking the shot glass Megatron swung the entire thing of nitrogen into his intake but was careful to hold it there. He felt the instant relief of the remainder of the heat and spat the nitrogen into the sink when he was done. Megatron could still feel the sting of the mouthful he did swallow earlier but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

“I didn’t know you were such a glutton for pain. Ack,” Megatron smacked his glossa inside his intake a few times.

“I’m just going to refuel in the morning. I’ll call the clinic to send a supply of fools energon as quickly as they can in the morning.

Leaving the kitchen he bid Trepan a good night and retired to the pull-out sofa.

\---

_I didn’t know you were such a glutton for pain._

Oh, if only Megatron knew.

“Goodnight” He said as he watched Megatron leave for the lounge room and finishing off his plate in the kitchen to wash up and package the rest in their cubes for later on, startled by the consideration of swift energon.

Why? Why would he willingly take something that made him weak? That dulled his senses and reflexes? If he was in the reverse situation, he would never wish to be _that_ weak that he couldn’t defend himself.

\---

Megatron woke up the next morning, his frame missing the plush berth in Trepan’s room. But he knew he would have it back sometime in the near future. Trepan couldn’t have that many days left in his weekend. Megatron folded the sofa back to its original state and made his way to the kitchen. He heated up a single cube for himself with magnesium. Considering how spooked Trepan was last night it was best to leave the mnemosurgeon alone till he got the next dose of fools energon in his system. He sat at the island and called the local clinic explaining his urgent need for the energon.

“Yes, well it was accidentally tossed out. My conjunx mistook it for expired energon.”

That word felt strange escaping his vox even if it was true for the next two to three weeks.

\---

Sleep was fitful and broken into hourly blocks, his systems made to restart to wake him up if his sparkrate reached a certain pace indicating another nightmare. It was temporary, and fragged him over when it came to actually feeling rested so it was another night out with the high grade and new frame before work tomorrow.

He could run some errands in the mean time. Datapad in hand creating a list as he walked into each room for a stock take, he’d need more polish and mercury, along with something for Megatron because while the mech kept himself clean he still had that odd smell for some reason. He wouldn’t say he smelt like a mine, but he smelt like the underground, spilled fuel, and gunpowder. Probably his treads while in alt mode and his frame's reaction to the fools energon.

“I have errands to run. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

\---

“I’ll be here,” Megatron replied as Trepan headed out the door.

The receptionist at the clinic said they’d try their best to send out an emergency supply within the day. So far Trepan hadn’t tried to use his needles on him. But with how spooked he appeared last night he really didn’t want to push his luck in finding out how far the surgeon would go to keep himself safe. That medical berth in the study couldn’t have been just for decor. After some quick tidying up in the berthroom Megatron found a blank, unlocked datapad to make use of in the study. He would ask Trepan if he wouldn’t mind sparing it for his personal writings. He needed something creative to keep him busy with the inhibitor chip still in his chassis. Megatron wrote down some personal musings but nothing too private just in case Trepan decided against him using it later on. Early in the afternoon he heard a knock on the door telling him that his energon supply had arrived. Setting it aside on the kitchen island Megatron went back to his writing as he didn’t want to interrupt his creative flow. He only stopped when he heard the front door open, Trepan walking in with his shopping goods.

“I’m going to soak in the bath pit for a while if you don’t mind sparing the washracks for a while,” Megatron said, putting down his datapad and picking up one of the canisters to show Trepan.

“Fools energon makes me feel lethargic and cramped for a while after ingesting it. The hot soak will help ease some of that discomfort.”

\---

“I don’t mind. Just let me have a quick rinse before you do” He said, noting the box upon the kitchen island no doubt Megatron’s supply of Fools Energon that would put him at ease and Megatron back to his newspark like state of strength.

A quick in and out of the washers, dried off and polished to a sheen and he was happy to let Megatron do as he pleased for the rest of he afternoon. He wasn’t sure what was in the fools energon to make Megatron as lethargic as he said, Trepan having had no such symptoms after his sip but then again, it was a sip not a cube.

“Right, heading out again. And this time, when I say _do not wait up_ that does not mean my berth is up for grabs. I plan to recharge in it when I return home.”

He had no plans to bring someone back here, but if things happened, things happened.

\---

Megatron remained seated at the kitchen island while Trepan took a quick shower. When the other mech returned from the washracks he assured Megatron that he would return later in the night to recharge in his berth.

“Dully noted,” Megatron responded.

If he had any hope of getting the inhibitor chip removed he needed to be on Trepan’s good side. Once the mnemosurgeon was out the door Megatron walked into the kitchen to put the fools energon into the cabinet save for one cube. Pulling back the lid he held in a vent and downed the foul liquid without pausing. He shuddered his plating as the taste lingered in his intake. He then rinsed the cube out in the sink and headed to the washracks. Some of the steam from Trepan’s shower was in the room and it magnified the smell of the body polish he wiped himself down in. Megatron had the moment to enjoy the relaxing aroma for now as he would be recharging on the sofa. While he waited for the bath pit to fill with water and solvent he could feel his tank churning from the unwelcome fuel. The soak didn’t stop it but it was a better place to rest. Between the energon, the heat of the water, and the smell of Trepan’s body polish Megatron began to slowly drift into a recharge. Not that it would hurt him but waking up to cold water would be mildly unpleasant. He didn’t even hear Trepan return through the front door. It was only when he heard the sounds of a mech in ecstasy that his processor snapped fully alert again. Sitting up in the bath with wide optics he could hear the sounds of two mechs fragging in the next room over and it quickly dawned on him that Trepan had brought a mech home for another fun night. Megatron felt like his spark would drop through his entire frame from just listening to such a private moment and that the mech he was hearing the most was Trepan.

\---

Trepan was never usually one for bringing home any _friends_ he made at night, content for a little back alley biting or going back to their habsuite to continue the fun but _frag_ could this mech bite and that got him a gold star in being brought home. His neck cables were scuffed, shoulder pauldrons sporting speckled dents from the denta tips his self repair would pop out by morning and he had no plans on letting this one leave without a few rounds between them.

A lot of hisses of being quiet and rather choice whispers he was glad Megatron had been asleep for and he pitied whichever neighbour had the wall against the head of the berth.

Still, Trepan was a mech of routine. And once his little berthmate seemed close to recharge for the night he was putting a stop to that, ushering them up and out of the habsuite before they got too comfortable. It was a fling, like frag was he letting them stay here. Who wanted that awkward post-frag conversation in the morning of “Should I call you?” No thank you! Once Trepan lacked a use for them, they were sent packing.

At least he felt great. He’d need a trip to the washracks and new sheets before he himself recharged but he could stretch and admire the sensations of his frame.

“… Frag” Maybe he really _should_ have gotten his frequency.

\---

With the berthroom adjacent to the washracks Megatron could hear the banging of the berth’s headboard in pace with Trepan’s moans. The fragger was doing this on purpose and Megatron knew it. He tried to think of a way to get out of the washrooms without the night turning into a more awkward moment for everyone. He couldn’t even leave the apartment as Trepan had changed the access code yesterday. When he heard Trepan’s first overload scream Megatron sat upright in the bath even more, his cooling fans clicking on and his interface panel snapping open.

‘ _Oh come on! Not to this!’_ he mentally yelled at himself.

Megatron cursed himself for watching those holovids. The memory of all of those mechs interfacing each other was playing through his processors. Between the sound of Trepan working up to another round with whomever he brought home with him and the lingering scent of his signature body polish Megatron's imagination began to betray him. A mental image of Trepan in berth below his own frame, Megatron’s designation leaving his vox as he thrusts his spike into him repeatedly. Megatron’s servo makes it’s way under the water and between his thighs. The inhibitor chip was still installed in his chassis and he knew he wouldn’t be able to overload no matter how much stimulation he provided his valve or spike. But his frustration over the past few days and the noise coming from the berthroom caused Megatron to toss all logic aside. His digits rubbed at his anterior node and he felt his spike pressurize quickly. Even when everything fell silent he continued to massage the node in some hope that maybe he could gain a single overload. It wasn’t until he heard the washrack door open that Megatron quickly sank into the tub and purposely splashed some of the water with his leg to catch Trepan’s attention.

“I heard every second of that!” he snapped at the mnemosurgeon.

\---

Content to lounge in berth till the warm fuzzies of what he’d brought home wore off into the cold disgust of his usual cleanliness of a surgeon. Berth stripped and wiped down with the sheets to toss into the hamper to remake it, and he was striding into the washracks where Megatron was once again skulking in his bubble bath of tyranny.

“I would be surprised if you didn’t” Trepan hummed, flaunting a stretch of servos over his helm to draw his cables tight before slackening to observe all his new marks in the mirror. Oh boy was he going to be buffing out bites and scuffs for days.

“Do you think if I duck out I can get his comm link before he leaves the building? I wouldn’t mind some benefits with that frame. He had _quite_ the mod.”

\---

Shifting his weight in the bath Megatron could feel his spike still fully pressurized and his valve slick from rubbing his anterior node. His optics glared at Trepan while the mech before him stretched and admired his own frame. His gaze trailed mostly to his aft and thighs, only leaving them momentarily to make sure Trepan didn’t catch him staring. While there were no visible traces of fluids on Trepan his frame was covered in many scuffs, dents, and paint that didn’t belong to him.

“Why are you asking me? You’re the one fragging him. Go get his comm link and let me finish my bath. Just…five more minutes.”

\---

“He is gone by now no doubt, having lounged as long as I did and my frame is far from the state of decency to go looking for berthmate. Stand out on the corner long enough and they’d think I was a fragmech” he mused, reaching for the polish before remembering his purchases.

“Actually, since you are hopping out of the bath soon I have a gift for you” he said, trotting off back to his office to find that bottle.

\---

Once Trepan turned and left the washracks Megatron quickly flipped the stopper to begin draining the foamy water. Grabbing the nearby towel he quickly covered his still open panel. With enough willful force he managed to depressurize his spike and close his panels. He could still feel the slick transfluid against his inner thighs. While he didn’t want to dirty up one of Trepan’s towels he didn’t have much choice at the moment. Megatron began quickly rubbing down his panel and inner thighs. He straightened up when he heard Trepan return. He held the towel in front of his shut panel out of paranoia, the rest of his frame still dripping wet.

\---

Trepan had begun to ignore little mannerisms he found strange from the mech, putting it back to mining base coding or paranoia or just the sheer overwhelming weight of coming from somewhere run down as your norm to a place Senate built and funded at the time of its lavish peak.

So this? He could raise a brow at and look past. For now.

“You are all scrapes and scuffs, and without a polish. I thought I would find you one” He said, holding out the box.

It was called _Marauder_. The image of a pirate ship in its background and what seemed to be the ship's captain at the forefront. And Trepan grinning like a slag.

“To help you smell like a captain when you are back on the Lost Light.”

\---

Trepan bought him a frame polish and while it was thoughtful that the mech would go out of his way to even purchase something for his unwanted guest Megatron couldn’t help but frown at the item. The name and image reminded him too much of a fan-made erotica he had discovered eons ago, loosely based on his gladiator days. Once he was free from the fighting pits and began his reign as the Decepticon leader he did everything in his power to destroy every single copy of the erotica novels. It took ages to hunt down every datapad held by private collectors but he succeeded in erasing the mockery of literature from history.

“Thanks, I guess,” Megatron mumbled, taking the polish from Trepan’s servo.

Doing a single fold-over of the towel in his other servo he began quickly drying off the rest of his frame. While his panel still felt uncomfortable it looked as dry as it will get from a quick glance. He just wanted to get out of the washracks as soon as possible. Trepan was still bearing the scuffs and paint transfers from his little fling and the sight was bothering him.

\---

Or, so he thought. Because my my, I _wonder_ what that first gift from Starscream had been all those weeks ago. It was almost like some had escaped execution and had been given to a certain surgeon.

“You are welcome, _dear”_ He smiled, leaving Megatron in the peace of the washracks to go back to his room to collect his sheets. Either Trepan was playful after a good fragging, or he knew something that Megatron did not.

“You don’t have to put it on tonight, as I really just wish for the washracks before I recharge.”

\---

Optics followed Trepan again when he left the washracks. When he informed Megatron that he wished to use the washracks the silver mech folded the towel in his servo on the drying rack and darted out.

“All yours,” he said as he passed the berthroom.

Taking one more look at the box of polish Megatron scoffed at its name and placed it on the coffee table. Recharging tonight was going to be difficult. His frame was still overcharged and the memories of Trepan’s voice still fresh in his processors. Laying in the fold-out berth Megatron tried to redirect his mind to anything else. The lethargic feeling from the fools energon was gone and forgotten by now.

\---

Trepan would remove the inhibitor chip in the morning before he left believing Megatron to have learned his lesson, and flicking the door shut when his unfortunate conjunx left the room.

Still, a shower felt great on overworked cables and damaged plating, content to just stand under the spray till he felt he should get out of there before he smashed his water bill and went to the painstaking task of buffing out scrapes and painting away the evidence of tonight.

  
  


 


	5. Kinks and Killers

After a few frustrated and boring hours of the night Megatron finally fell into a recharge. The guest berth wasn’t nearly as comfortable or plush as Trepan’s and he spent the night sleeping on his back. The mediocre berth seemed to keep him on alert as well since he always woke up whenever Trepan was walking around preparing to leave for work. But this time the footsteps sounded too cautious and close. Onlining his optics Megatron saw Trepan looming over him, hands cautiously up near his upper chassis. Reflexes from his phobia for mnemo needles kicked in and he quickly grabbed Trepan’s forearm. Rotating his own body he flipped Trepan over and then under himself against the berth’s mesh. Once he was pinned on top of the smaller mech he grabbed the other wrist with his free servo.

“Well call me a fool for getting too cozy around your place,” Megatron growled, his red optics glaring at Trepan.

\---

You know? In retrospect maybe the gesture of having Megatron wake up to no more chip could probably have been scratched for waiting till Megatron woke up or at least doing it before they parted their seperate ways for the night, yelping at the sudden _crush_ of servos around his arm and his world pitching as he was hauled under the now looming frame.

“I-I was going for the chip! I swear!” He yelped, hunching as low as he could in his predicament of pinned arms, plating slick to his form to be as small as he could and spark flickering rapidly to send those red optics to hell fire at the reflection.

\---

The fact that Trepan didn’t wait for Megatron to wake up first seemed like a very odd mistake to make, especially around a mech he didn’t hide his fear around. The fools energon may placate his behavior and strength but he was still more than capable in handling Trepan.

“You didn’t think it was a far wiser decision to wake me up first?”

His glare remained fixed on the mnemosurgeon as he thought for a moment. He might not get another chance like this. Megatron released his left servo to manually open his own chassis.

“You put it in with a single servo, I’m sure you can remove it the same way.”

His optics remained fixed on Trepan as the mech did his work. Once he saw the notification of removal cross his HUD he closed his chassis but replaced his servo around Trepan’s wrist.

“Now, about those nanites.”

\---

“I was hoping for a nice gesture of waking up without it. I forgot not everyone recharges like me?” Trepan offered meekly, somewhat twisted under the chassis with legs drawn up towards him trying to make himself as small as he could in this situation and spark fluttering in his chassis as one of his servos was released to instantly tuck in against his chassis with the curled legs as he listened to Megatron’s reasoning behind releasing part of him.

Reaching up hesitantly, watching Megatron for an ulterior motive and he was removing the little chip from the port and letting it _tnk tnk_ on the floor as it was let go of. Just when he thought it was safe to withdraw his servo back to his chassis where he felt it was most _safe_ it was caught again by the wrist with a second flinch of the morning.

“…What about them?”

\---

“As oddly sentimental your gesture was it was executed poorly. You know that mortifying fear you felt when I told you that you accidentally poured out my fools energon? That’s what I feel every time I suspect those needles coming out near me.”

Megatron kept his gaze on Trepan even as the mech retracted in fear under him. He almost looked like he was trying to merge himself into the sofa. He loosened up his grip on Trepan’s wrists but kept them firm enough to hold him in place.

“Well, dearest conjunx, that’s what started this mess with the little inhibitor chip. I want these nanites permanently disabled and or removed from my system.”

It was a gamble negotiating with Trepan like this. He knew full well that the nanites were a method to take Megatron out should he happen to die. But the silver mech just hoped that he could scare Trepan enough to let him have his way.

\---

Oh. _OH._

While grateful for the lessening grip on his wrists, not at all doubting Megatron could crush them and render his servos void with the right pressure, he would much prefer being released and off he couch to get the heck out of the apartment for a few days in lieu of this little _lovers_ quarrel.

He couldn’t lie like this, not his field flaring at every movement of the looming frame or his spark window so sporadic. He was indeed trying to merge with the sofa.

“There are no nanites?” He offered meekly, more a question than a statement.

\---

Megatron’s glare narrowed and he had to restrain himself from tightening his grip on Trepan’s wrists. A lie. A huge lie just to gain control over their unwanted arrangement. There was the small chance that Trepan was lying right now just to get out of his grasp. However, it would explain his reaction to being rudely woken up his first night back from a long work week. Megatron let out a forced exvent and he released Trepan. He stood up and gave Trepan one more hard look as the mech remained on the berth.

“I can’t decide if I should be thankful or angrier towards you.”

He then turned away and disappeared into the kitchen, his pedes hitting the floor a bit louder than normal. As of right now Megatron didn’t want to look at Trepan and just wished that the mech would take off for a few days to The Institute.

\---

Drawing both servos in against his window at being released from the great servos and he was remaining hunch curled on the berth with antenna back until pedes softened into the kitchen and he was swallowing thickly against his racing spark at _just_ how close he had been to being crushed.

Fools Energon or not, he was not as lethargic as Trepan thought he was.

But yep! He was out the door as quick as he could rubbing his wrists to remove the phantom sensation of big servos still holding them down.

_No_ , processor. We are not going down that track. Keep your kinks and killers separate.

\---

Even after he heard Trepan head out the front door Megatron remained in the kitchen, staring at the little appliance as it slowly heated up a cube of energon.

‘ _There are no nanites.’_

It was an odd mixture of relief and frustration from that news. He tried not to blame Trepan too much, both mechs were scared of each other and for very good reasons. But right now his system was too worked up from the initial fright of waking up to the sight of Trepan looming over him.

“Sneaky little fragger,” he mumbled.

Opening the kitchen cabinet Megatron skipped his usual magnesium for Trepan’s favorite - mercury. Taking a scoop of it wasn’t the most petty thing Megatron could do as revenge. But it was small enough that maybe Trepan wouldn’t care if he did notice. Taking a sip of his new drink mixture he could now see why Trepan liked mercury so much. Megatron returned to the living room to refold the guest berth back into a sofa. Finding the inhibitor chip laying on the floor he tossed it onto the coffee table. He’d put it back in the berthside table and then test his system to be sure it had successfully ejected its program. For now he just wanted to cool off to some holovids. Maybe divert his frustrations to whatever political announcements Starscream had made recently.

\---

The tram ride to work was … confusing to say the least.

His spark was racing. His servos shaking. The carpel struts of his wrist still registering the pressure of a pair of grey servos. And those big optics of hell fire visible every time he blinked. He was conflicted. All his body language oozed fear. And yet? His core temperature was ticking higher by the minute every step of the way to the Institute till he was sitting at his desk in a daze of non-productivity.

No. This was the mech who tried to kill him once upon an eon. This marriage was nothing but a farce of poor judgement. Any day now, the nullifying documentation would come through the mail and he’d be home alone once more without worrying about Megatron’s next snap.

… And yet, why was he not looking forward to it? A new distraction would get him back on track.

“… Deadlift. Want to go on ‘break’?”

\---

Standing up from the sofa Megatron stretched his spinal struts. Apart from the single cube of energon he made for himself early in the morning he hadn’t refueled since his weekly fools energon dose last night. And now that he had calmed down enough from Trepan’s sneaky stunt he wanted something more satisfying. The inhibitor chip on the coffee table caught his optic and he returned the chip back to the top drawer of the berthside stand. While he could have hidden the chip in his own subspace he doubted Trepan would try to sneak it back in his chassis. The mech was most likely now too scared to try to touch him while asleep again. Megatron just hoped that he hadn’t scared Trepan too much into actually trying to use his needles on him. Looking at the neatly made berth Megatron now had at least four days to enjoy some real rest. He would also test to make sure the inhibitor chip didn’t leave its software behind. But later. Right now he wanted decent fuel.

\---

Three days.

Three days he spent in a sense of concern at how _scattered_ his mind felt. His work was elusive, his thoughts like mist when he attempted to grab them. And just appalled at his inability to focus on his research that he simply clocked out to the proviso of ‘feeling under the weather’. Deadlift was useless in a distraction, so he’d ruled that out under the first ‘break’ that he didn’t even bother.

He was going to buy a stiff drink to take home and contemplate with a bath as at this hour no doubt Megatron had commandeered his berth and he was _not_ flopping into it while occupied. He mused over scaring him from within the bath as Megatron had once him but after their last interaction? Probably not wise to poke revenge.

\---

Megatron was comfortable in Trepan’s berth as he knew he had one more day left to recharge in its plush comfort before its rightful owner returned home. Or so he had figured after only a few observations of Trepan’s work habits. Even after he told Trepan that he was a fool for getting too comfortable around his apartment he would fall into the same humiliating mistake.

  
The door to the berthroom remained cracked open as Megatron didn’t expect Trepan to come home early. A low groan and heavy vents almost covered the sound of his frame’s cooling fans. Most of the blankets had been shoved to the side of the berth next to the wall as he didn’t want to soil them and have to wash Trepan’s body polish smell off of them. With a servo grasped at the edge of the mesh close to his face he had his other servo between his thighs. Slicking his digits with the transfluid from his valve he then brought his servo up to his fully pressurized spike.

“Nhhh…Trepan…,” the name of his fantasy escapes his vox as he begins stroking.

\---

Front door whispering shut behind him as he slipped inside and Trepan was resting his workbag on the kitchen counter silently not sure if Megatron was on the couch in the darkness of the apartment he could navigate blind through familiarity before the creak and groan of mech and berth echoed out to him.

What the frag was Megatron doing to his… Oh.

Leaning in the doorframe of the berthroom, arms idly folded over his window and he was watching the mech. The blankets, no doubt with his smell on them from the way a corner was held, against his olfactories and from the shifting of the frame no doubt in the midst of a fantasy.

Seems without that inhibitor Megatron was just self-servicing constantly which made Trepan quite glad for the miner cleaning up after himself because oh spark, if he ever found that lying around Megatron would be on the curb before he could begin apologising. Megatron would probably take relish in the chance to head off to Optimus’ for a while. They weren’t exactly the _best_ pair of people to keep cooped up in a habsuite.

And all that changed in his helm when his name was uttered as the touch style changed. Well, wasn’t that a curve ball?

“Yes~?”

\---

Megatron’s charge was still new, still somewhere in the beginning of his self-servicing act. And it wouldn’t take much effort to get him release, normally. Most times he did this without fantasies and stimulated his valve’s outer node. But after Trepan left for his long stretch at work and Megatron calmed down from his scare he was replaying the memory of Trepan’s interfacing noises in his processors. Coupled with the mental image of Trepan pinned under him in a more willing position and Megatron was using his spike this time. But his night alone came to a sudden stop when he heard Trepan speak to him from the open berthroom door. Megatron’s optics went wide and he threw what part of the blanket he could over his bare interface panel before he even turned to see Trepan. The apartment was dark and Trepan had his arms crossed over part of his spark window. But having his optics already adjusted to the dark Megatron could see the outline of that smirk.

“Oh frag! You’re home early!”

Megatron’s spark was racing and nothing more than pure embarrassment coursed through his system like fire. There was no lying around what he was doing. If the ground decided to just open up and drop him into the depths of the planet he would be more than ok with it.

\---

“Early? Why, Megatron, you say that like I do not live here and I was not supposed to catch you and your indulgence in _my_ berth. But, I must say, I am ever so curious on just it was you were imagining to have uttered my name.” He hummed, quirking a brow at Megatron’s attempt to cover himself before sauntering closer.

“Because I do hope from the way you were touching, you surely wouldn’t imagine that I …” He trailed off, perching at the foot of the berth and the glow of his window illuminating his smirk. “Oh, no, no, Megatron. I don’t bottom out for needy little miners.”

\---

Oh this was the worst. Megatron could handle Trepan’s reaction had it been one of pure disgust, one that he had expected the most. Instead the mech was walking closer to him in a casual manner. His own legs reflexively drew up slightly in a poor attempt to cover himself more. His wide red optics remained fixed on Trepan as he walked. Whatever upper hand Megatron had gained from having the inhibitor chip was now lost.

“This is the first week that I’ve done this in your berth I swear,” he groaned.

His helm hanged slightly in shame all while keeping his look fixed on Trepan. How would he even begin to explain his fantasy of the other mech.

“It’s….when…,” words fumbled from his vox as he tried to clear his mind long enough to form an excuse.

“Your last fling that I heard from the washracks. You…the noises you made just got to me.”

\---

Oh, look at him cower up the head of the berth to try and hide under a sheet like Trepan hadn’t already seen all of Megatron on writhing display at the door.

“Only the first week? So while I have been away working you’ve been sprawled on my berth with your servos playing ‘not my touch’ fantasies of _me_?” he asked, sliding closer to Megatron in one fluid motion to back him up more.

“So, because I brought home some nightly entertainment last week that all my _appreciation_ you heard you paired with some poorly executed rhythm to your helm? But you didn’t answer my question, Megatron. What _were_ you imagining?”

\---

Megatron had to grip onto more of the blanket as Trepan slid closer towards him. He was now effectively pinned in a corner next to the headboard of the berth. Only the top part of his back touched the wall as there was a gap between the berth and the wall. Not wide enough for Megatron to walk through but just enough that if he scooted his aft too far he could very likely get stuck.

“I was…”

Why did Trepan ask that question? He said the surgeon’s name thinking he was still home alone so why was he still asking?

“You cannot seriously be demanding a detailed answer to what was going on in my helm!”

\---

With one servo on the blankets to keep them up, the other helping him crab shuffle backwards away from Trepan and the surgeon did not miss that little wobble from where there was no more berth under his aft causing _quite_ the lean.

Diabolical? Maybe.

“Oh, but I am. Call it _rent_ ,” One more slide closer and he was rolling a familiar little chip over and under his knuckles. “Or, I could get it another way. Up to you.”

\---

For a mech who was quite terrified of being grabbed and pinned days ago he sure had a lot of courage right now. And the situation just escalated when Megatron caught sight of that small chip in the glow of both of their biolights with how close they were now from each other.

“You’ve got another thing coming if you really believe that I would open my chassis and….”

Megatron’s concentration was on that chip in the small servo and he backed up once more and felt his weight drop slightly. A startled yelp came from Megatron as his aft slid into the space between the berth and the wall. He removed his servo from the blanket still in his lap to use both of them to try to hoist himself up.

“I’m….stuck….”

\---

And there he went with a cycle of wide rubies and a yelp as the gap came up to meet Megatron, catching his pelvis in the trap and Trepan flicking the sheet away from servos trying to pull him out.

“I didn’t need your chassis to open. It's called misdirection.”

However, seeing Megatron all bent and pinned like this was quite amusing.

Datapad swinging up with a little flash, and Trepan was sending some memorabilia to his processor of their time together. When Megatron left and the divorce settled, he’d send him an eVideo of all their greatest moments in this habsuite. Trepan did have cameras for security after all.

\---

Megatron wasn’t quick enough to grab the blanket or hide himself from the flash of light that came from Trepan’s datapad. The little fragger had snatched a photo that could easily become blackmail in the wrong servos.

“Don’t you dare send that to anyone!”

Megatron abandoned his attempts to keep himself covered in his final attempt to free himself from the wedge. Once he hoisted himself up he lunged towards the datapad in Trepan’s servo.

\---

“Why not? You look _ever_ so photogenic. What about a Christmas card to Rodimus?” he grinned, throwing himself backwards off the berth in a roll to sprint out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, and took evasive maneuvers.

Hide the datapad: CHECK!

Hide from Megatron: Current task!

Megatron was easy to avoid, from his lumbering steps.

It was like the childhood game ‘murder in the dark’. Except with less giggles as sparklings and more roboner.

\---

The last thing Megatron needed was for anyone on the Lost Light to see that photo, especially Rodimus. Once his co-captain got a hold of something that incriminating the rest of the crew was bound to see it soon after.

“Get your aft back here!”

Megatron swung the bearthroom door open. He heard the light footsteps from Trepan in another room. Flicking on the living room lights and Megatron saw only an empty room.

“Fragging…” he grumbled to himself.  
  
He had to stop for a moment to forcefully depressurize his spike and close his panel. It was easier this time compared to the other night while he was in the bath. Trepan’s insistent behavior and questioning had lessened his mood for self-servicing, mentally. Physically his shut panels felt uncomfortable and warm from the stimulation not long ago. Some of his transfluids was still on his inner thighs. But he ignored it as he made his way towards the study, a likely place for Trepan to retreat to.

\---

Huddling low in his hiding place at the lights flicked on and pedes going silent, and a grin was pulling at his lips at Megatron grumbling as he headed for the study.

Oh, what was it about Hide and Seek? Once you were hiding, you were torn between being deathly silent or waving your arms screaming 'here I am' all for the satisfaction of a game.

Still, with Megatron ducking into the office, Trepan lifted the lid of his hiding place to flick the living room lights off again before ducking back down into his little hidey hole.

\---

The study was empty even as Megatron searched all of the possible hiding places. He stopped only when he heard the flick of a switch. Looking up he noticed that the light from the living room that had shone through the hall was now out. Small patter of pedes again as Trepan ran back to his hiding place. Megatron strolled back to the living room to turn the light back on. Wherever Trepan darted to it wasn’t too far away.

“Where are you, sweetie?” Megatron cooed in a sarcastic manner.

He quickly checked behind the sofa before making his way to the kitchen, flicking the light on as he did so.

\---

Antenna flicking at the sounds outside his cupboard, and Trepan was content to sit nice and quiet to wait out Megatron’s search efforts. After all, he could hear Megatron in the kitchen and waiting.

And it was sitting in the pitch black darkness that Trepan decided to mess with Megatron. Delving into his subspace to draw out the little control pad, and he was smirking at the little blue print of his apartment to appear on the dim blue screen.

Pressing his digit to the illuminated square of the kitchen and he was quite smug when it turned off, no doubt the actual lights doing the same thing, before doing it again for the living room.

\---

Megatron jumped slightly when the lights in the kitchen and the living room went out swiftly. He didn’t hear any pedes or light switch flicks. Megatron quickly turned the kitchen light back on. Trepan knew where he was, he had to be close. Crouching down Megatron opened each cupboard one at a time till he found his target.

“Hello, darling,” Megatron smiled.

\---

Sadly, cupboard number two was Trepan’s so he barely had time to push himself as far back into back of his hiding place before the door swung open and Megatron was smiling at him from outside pushing Trepan back just a little further inside.

“H-hello?” came the meek little smile. Not so confident now.

\---

Trepan didn’t look terrified, not in the way that he had those few days ago. This was a game to him, as always. Without the false nanites and the inhibitor chip he now had another form of leverage over Megatron. Looking back now Megatron should have kept himself more composed. Should have. But apparently the sight he had walked in on didn’t seem to phase him one bit. Megatron had to turn this around to his advantage, somehow.

“You’ll have to forgive me but you didn’t exactly give me enough time to clean my servos before you ran off,” he said as he reached for Trepan at the back of the cupboard.

\---

“Oh hell slagging no!”

Pressing back at the reach of filthy (in Trepan’s eyes anyway) servos reaching for him and pedes were propelling him forwards in a slide out of the cupboard onto the floor with a twist to land on his side and he was scrambling to his pedes to back away from the servos.

“Getawaygetawaygetaway”

Everything in this place was as clean as his office, and having fraggy fingers reaching for him was one way to get right under his plating.

\---

Well that was easy. Trepan looked disgusted at Megatron’s words and his own servo reaching towards him that he bolted out. Trepan landed on the floor and right when he began to prop himself up Megatron grabbed his leg. Dragging him back down to the floor and Megatron was now on his servos and knees. He let go of Trepan’s leg just long enough to move his servo to Trepan’s arm, his other servo grabbing the other one soon after.

“Oh but you were so eager to be in my personal space in the berthroom. You can wash up after you hand over your datapad,” Megatron said.

He was going to stop at that one request but curiosity took over.

“And why do you care so much what my fantasy was?”

\---

“Because you said my name. People don’t say _my_ name.”

Trepan could literally feel his plating itch where his leg was grabbed to haul him down and backwards and his attempt to twist so he could bat servos only involved them being pinned all over again, causing more plating itching, less murder in the expression though this time.

“Sure, there it goes” he grit out, heel snapping out to send the little comm.pad spinning to the other side of the kitchen meaning either Megatron had to let go, or try and move the surgeon.

\---

Megatron turned his helm to watch the datapad slide across the kitchen floor for a second before returning his attention back to Trepan. The surgeon had been uncomfortably persistent in his own question earlier, now it was his turn.

“None of your berth partners ever say your name when you two frag? To a degree I understand that it’s a one-time thing but you can’t tell me that they don’t know your designation during that time.”

He stared at Trepan for a moment, his grip on the mech’s servo’s not nearly as firm as they had been last time. Megatron was trying to not let his mind wander back to his fantasies in the middle if this conversation.

“If you’re _that_ curious I imagined…us…looking a little something like this. Just….not as restrained.”

And definitely not on the kitchen floor.

\---

“You miss the point. No one says my name when I am not there with them unless its over a comm. They just don’t. And designations aren’t really important in my one-nighters” He said with a floor hampered shrug as he listened to Megatron’s admittance.

He had something new to puzzle over.

“… Can you let go so I can wash my plating now? You have your datapad” or, rather, you had a datapad. He’d still hidden his.

\---

“Hmmm,” Megatron let out a hum.

This had turned into a rather odd night and both of them were now just dancing around the fact that Megatron had been caught having too much fun.

“I suppose,” Megatron said before standing up and picking the datapad off the floor.

“I take it you’ll want the berth back as well.”

\---

Sitting up to go plunge his arms into the sink before rubbing down his touched calf plate and Trepan was building up a nice lather of foam on both.

“Not until you scrub it down and put the sheets down the chute.” Trepan corrected, rinsing away the bubbles.

“… I must ask, why me? Aside eavesdropping that night that 'got to you' I have been nothing but inhospitable, and spiteful. Between the forms in-transit and our history, why me of all people?”

He should be asking himself that same question.

\---

“Yeah I’ll get to that,” Megatron replied to the request to clean off the berth.

He couldn’t find the picture Trepan took on the datapad and decided to mess with it later, stashing it away in his subspace for now. He planned to take a quick shower after cleaning off the berth. While his mood to finish his self-servicing was now gone he still needed to clean up. Megatron was about to leave the kitchen when Trepan asked him why. He really regretted not locking the berthroom door.

“Inhospitality is a norm for me. My first few months on the Lost Light I had my habsuite door covered in graffiti, repeatedly. Whirl attacked me with the intent to anger me so I would be sent back to Cybertron. I was invited to a bar by an anonymous request for one of my poetry readings and the entire bar cleared out before I could finish the first sentence. I’ve just learned that it’s best to let mechs take their frustration out on me till they feel satisfied. It doesn’t really affect my opinion of them. I have an unforgivable history. These days I am more concerned over how mechs, such as my crew, treat each other when it comes to judging their character.”

Megatron didn’t mean to go on a little speech but he hoped the semi-vague answer would satisfy Trepan to drop the subject for the night.

“I’ll clean your berth as quickly as I can. I know you’re probably tired from doing another long stretch at work,” he added before leaving the kitchen.

\---

“I …”

Okay, not the slap to the face that he was expecting from the warlord and leaving Trepan to stand in the empty kitchen, blinking at the words he had listened to and was replaying in his helm to process. Yes, Megatron had spoken once before how neither Autobot or Decepticon alike liked him nowaday (as a multi-million year old warmonger understandable) but even then it brought to light why Megatron only left on an errand by Trepan or to visit his seemingly only friend; Optimus.

Consider the subject dropped. Both subjects.

Well, conversation was going to be awkward till he went to work next.

\---

After a quick wash down of the berth with new sheets in place and Megatron was in the washracks for a quick shower. Now that he was alone the recent even replayed in his processors. If there was anything worse than feeling embarrassed during a moment in time it’s feeling it again second-hand as a memory.

‘ _I should have stayed on the Lost Light. How did I get myself into this?’_

Trepan wasn’t a bad looking mech at all. He did have a nice pair of legs. But the trust issue was still a problem even though they managed to survive each other’s presence for this length of time. After his quick wash Megatron was making himself comfortable in the guest berth. He skipped the polish for tonight. Right now he just wanted to sleep off the rest of the awkward night.

 


End file.
